In My Veins
by heystella
Summary: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

**Rating:** PG13/T for now, will go up in later chapters

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>He wishes he could be more impressed.<p>

Okay, so maybe something like the little huts and colorful whimsy of Munchkinland was too much to expect, but he did anticipate on at least a decent external paint job and plaster that's still mostly there.

The building sits in the back corner of a strip mall with a 7-11 and a questionable-looking pizza place. There's no signage; it looks more like a rapidly-deteriorating house than a public meeting space. It's the kind of place that can be easily overlooked if no one is searching for it.

Which, now that he thinks about it, is probably what they were going for.

The interior is much better. In fact, it looks a little bit like a counselor's office, complete with pamphlets and comfortable chairs - the only difference is that Ms. Pillsbury doesn't hang large posters for the Trevor Project and HRC, and she most definitely doesn't offer a basket of free condoms.

No one's at the front desk, and the halls are eerily silent. This is the right place… but where is everyone?

There's a shuffling noise behind him, and he fights the urge to scream.

"Can I help you?"

He breathes deep and turns.

The speaker is a short Asian boy with glasses, wearing red chucks and a black cardigan. There's a heavy-looking box in his arms, and he feels a little guilty for having stopped him. "Oh, are you here for the Mars group?"

He nods wordlessly.

The Asian boy smiles. "You're on the right track then. Just go ahead down the hall and take the stairs on the left. Then when you get up there, it'll be the first door on the right."

He thanks the boy and follows the directions, going down the hall and only when he climbs the stairs does he start hearing faint voices. They grow progressively louder and louder as he approaches, and he stops at the side of the door.

"My parents were actually pretty supportive," one deep voice admits. "I mean, they were bummed cause they were hoping to hook me up with this one chick that I've known since I was five. But then they figured that they can't really do anything about it now, and well - they don't hate me at least."

"My mom was supportive. My dad? Not so much," another voice says. This one is much softer, higher. "He wanted to 'smack the gay' out of me. Obviously it didn't work."

He bites his lip. That has to be tough - not being accepted even by family. When he hears stories like this, it just reminds him of that day back in the fall - when it all spilled out and he'd started crying on his father's shoulder. How much better he felt after he came out - and how lucky he is to have the father he does.

"And you?"

Silence, and he turns his head, staring at the wall right next to the open doorway.

"Yes, you," the voice says in a teasing tone. "The one hovering just outside the door."

Damn. He clears his throat and brushes a strand of hair back up into his coiff before stepping forward. "Hi."

"Hey," the guys respond. The one sitting on the floor is a short, slightly thick blond with freckles. Another one, a skinny Latino boy wearing sinfully tight pants, reclines on a beanbag. There's another occupying the full length of the couch, wearing a ratty hoodie, pushing his labret piercing with his tongue.

The last one sits backwards on a fold-out chair, his arms propped up against the backrest. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he stares at Kurt, and his brown hair sweeps up into a sort of Gossip Girl-esque style. Probably the most striking of his features is that smirk on his face.

He can't quite decide if he likes it or not.

"You must be new," says the one in the chair, and he recognizes him as the one who called him out just a moment ago. "Have a seat."

He looks around the room. There are no more chairs, and hell if he's going to sit on the floor with these new Keanan Dufftys. He forces a smile. "No, that's okay."

The boy in the chair shrugs and says nothing more. He and the rest of the guys look up at him expectantly, and suddenly he realizes that he's supposed to introduce himself. "Oh, um. My name is Kurt."

"Nice to meet ya," says the boy with the lip piercing, sitting up on the couch and scooting over to make room for Kurt. "I'm Seth."

"Jake," offers the chubby blond.

"You can call me Rigo," the Latino boy says, winking at Kurt, and he leans forward with interest.

The one in the chair rolls his eyes. "Don't mind Casanova, he hits on anything that moves."

Kurt cracks a smile at Rigo's protest.

"Anyway - Kurt, right? Welcome," the boy in the chair continues, and something in his eyes makes Kurt's stomach swoop. "My name's Sebastian."

* * *

><p>"And this is the kitchen area. Obviously this is where we prep food for the luncheons," Sebastian gestures to the small but professional-looking space, complete with stainless steel countertops. He leads Kurt back out into the hall, slowly examining his surroundings as if trying to determine what would be worth showing.<p>

He stops in front of a very small room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, each crammed with tomes of every size. "This is our library. We've pretty much got the biggest collection of LGBTQ literature in western Ohio."

"That's amazing," Kurt muses, his eyes sweeping over the shelves. He can't imagine anyone ever reading through all of this. It's incredible though - he didn't think that places like this existed outside of Miami or San Francisco - but it's right here, just twenty minutes away.

And to think, he didn't even know about it until two nights ago.

"Let's see if my mom's still here," Sebastian murmurs, more to himself than anyone else, but he still looks over his shoulder to see if Kurt is following him.

They make their way downstairs and enter through a door just left of the front desk. A woman in pink scrubs sits behind a counter, flipping through a magazine. At the sound of footsteps, she looks up and smiles. "Hi sweetie."

"Hey Mom," Sebastian quickly presses his lips to his mother's cheek. "I'm just giving Kurt here the grand tour. He's a new addition to the Mars group."

He turns to Kurt. "This is my mom, Carole. She's a RN at St. Rita's, but she works here every other Monday doing the HIV testing."

Kurt smiles and offers a handshake. "Pleasure to meet you."

"And you too, Kurt," she smiles warmly, shaking his hand. "What do you think of the place so far?"

He sneaks a glance at Sebastian only to see the other boy watching him carefully, that same smirk on his face. Quickly he looks away, his cheeks flushing.

The last hour had been amazing - he hadn't talked much during group, mostly just listened - but knowing that they had gone through the same bullying experiences all through different schools - that was more than enough comfort for him.

And the fact that Sebastian kept his eyes practically glued to Kurt throughout the remainder of group? Well, that was practically like a new McQueen scarf to top off a perfectly-planned outfit.

"So far?" Kurt answers, offering a tiny smile. "I really like it."

* * *

><p>At first it's the shallow things. Sebastian's hair is a little trendy, but it works for him somehow - though sometimes he does imagine running his fingers through it, feeling the softness of it without any gel or product. And his eyes are probably the most gorgeous shade of green Kurt's ever seen. The small moles dotting his left eye are impossibly cute, and his mouth - Kurt didn't think that just a mouth by itself could be sexy, but Sebastian makes it possible. His lips are just small enough, plump but not too full with a perfectly shaped cupid's bow up top.<p>

Kurt tries not to be too obvious in his staring. Sometimes he thinks he's successful, like when he watches Sebastian during group - and Sebastian talks a _lot_- so he kind of has an excuse. And then there are other times - like when Rigo talks about what it was like growing up in Puerto Rico - that his gaze just... drifts over to Sebastian. And Kurt's not sure if he's wearing a neon sign or something that reads "I'm staring at you" because almost every single time, Sebastian catches him in the act. And he just - smiles. That slow, lazy smile, almost like he's hiding something.

Of course Kurt's first instinct is to look away. There are a few times when he does, and he has to force himself to think of the world's unsexiest things (_Coach Tanaka in drag, Figgins in a wet t-shirt_) because that damn smile makes him more flustered than he's ever been.

But when he doesn't look away, when he meets Sebastian's gaze head-on and matches that smile - it's a huge confidence surge, at least for a while. It makes him think - you're capable of attracting guys. You're not bound to be the ugly duckling forever.

And that's when he remembers that he's talking about Sebastian. Sebastian, who's probably got an equally attractive, confident, smart boyfriend and Kurt doesn't fit in that picture at all. He doesn't ask if Sebastian has a boyfriend - there's obvious, and then there's way obvious - and Sebastian's never mentioned it. But honestly, how can he not be attached?

He wonders sometimes if either Rigo or Jake or Seth is secretly Sebastian's boyfriend. In the end, none of them seem to be his type, not that he's spent much time considering what said type might be.

Sometimes he tries to gather hints though. He's casually mentioned his current involvement on the cheer squad, and he could have sworn he saw Sebastian's eyes flash with curiosity. Glee club is another thing that seems to pique his interest.

"What kind of music do you guys do in glee?" Sebastian asks one day as they hang out in the clinic. Carole is in the next room over, administering two antibody tests.

Kurt flips through the January 2010 edition of Vogue. "We try to do all kinds, but our teacher seems to be forever stuck in the 80s. What about your group?"

Sebastian chuckles. "Just turn on the radio, we'll find some way to make it a cappella."

"Sounds like fun," Kurt says with a smile, and he musters up the courage to add, "You should sing for me some time. I'm sure you have a wonderful voice."

"Well, I don't want to brag..." Sebastian drags out playfully, and Kurt laughs in response. "But yeah, I am pretty good. Maybe at the open house. We could totally sing a duet."

Kurt smiles and says nothing, just continues to page through the magazine.

"I'm serious," Sebastian says, leaning over Kurt from his sitting position on top of the counter.

Kurt looks up and sees him mere inches from his face, and he forces himself not to swallow or look away. Instead he stares at the space right between Sebastian's eyebrows, his cheeks growing warm. "About what?"

"The duet."

"Okay, we'll sing together," Kurt leans back in his chair a bit, laughing uncomfortably. It probably isn't a good idea since his stomach is already doing somersaults as is. "You don't have to get all weird."

That answer seems to satisfy Sebastian, and he leans back smiling. "Nice. So what are we singing?"

* * *

><p>It's distracting sometimes - Sebastian's little quirks, like his facial expressions becoming suddenly intense and then immediately relaxing. Those quirks are small details that Kurt would never remember if it were anyone else, but because it's <em>Sebastian<em>, he does.

The way Sebastian cocks his head back when someone is speaking. The way he interrupts Seth's stories with snide comments (the rudeness of which is normally a huge turn-off for Kurt, but somehow it isn't, this time). The way he details those summers with his aunt in Paris like they're the best things to have ever happened to him. The way he can be completely in-your-face and yet still adore his wonderful mother.

And when he talks to Kurt - when he leans into Kurt's personal space - that's what really gets to him. Because Kurt's gotten so used to changing by himself in the corner, facing the wall in the locker room just to avoid accusations from the other guys about checking them out. He's gotten so used to the locker shoves and the dumpster tosses that when Sebastian invades his space like this with no intention of hurting him? He's just a bit guarded and a little shocked, but his heart feels light enough to shoot off into the clouds.

Sebastian doesn't treat him like a leper or some sort of walking abomination - he just treats him like a normal person. And that's all he's ever really wanted.

It's things like those that get to Kurt, hook, line, and sinker.

But when he thinks about it, there really isn't much he knows about Sebastian. So he's openly gay. So he's a member of the Warblers. So he has that cocky smile permanently affixed to his face. So his parents got divorced when he was young.

That's about the extent of what he knows.

He imagines that this interest with Sebastian... is like nicotine. The first few hits are for curiosity. But soon he needs more, wants more.

There is so much to discover about him.

"Are you bringing your dad on Sunday? We've had a lot of positive responses from parents who've come in before," Sebastian mentions on the Monday before open house.

Kurt bites his lip in thought, pulling his cardigan tighter. "I don't know... Is your mom going to be there?"

Sebastian gives him a strange look. "Well, yeah. But she always is, every year."

He lets that sink in for a moment. This is the perfect opportunity. If he wants to know all there is about the boy in front of him, this is his chance. It isn't... being pushy, it's just curiosity.

With a smile, Kurt answers, "I'll try to get him to tag along."

He only feels a little bit guilty.

* * *

><p>The open house packs the Lambda Community Center with more people than Kurt's ever seen prowling the halls on all of his Mondays here combined. It had been surprisingly easy to get his father to attend, though he suspects that the promise of free food of all kinds was more than enough bait.<p>

His father slips away to the buffet table before Kurt can set down any strict guidelines - but he figures he'll be back soon, there'll be plenty of time to sort out the can and cannot-eats on Burt's plate. Instead he takes the time to scope out the crowd and socialize a bit.

Most of the attendees are older gentlemen, but he recognizes Seth and Rigo across the room, and they wave enthusiastically at him before returning to what looks like a deeply engaging discussion with a blonde girl dressed in head-to-toe black. A friendly gentleman with white hair strikes up a conversation with Kurt. As it turns out, he happens to be in a polyamorous relationship with two other men, and he chuckles a bit at Kurt's surprise.

"They call us 'The Boyfriends' around here. I know it's not... normal, to most," Ken says, taking a sip of cider from his cup, "But you can't choose who you fall for. Sometimes you end up falling for two different people. At times it works out. Other times, it doesn't."

Kurt thinks about this. It's true. He sure as hell didn't _choose_ to be interested in guys - because honestly, who would _choose_an option that would result in daily ridicule? But he can't wrap his head around the idea of loving two people equally at the same time. It's just so... foreign. He feels somewhat disappointed in himself. If he's into progressive movements for gay rights, shouldn't he be able to understand a concept like this?

He opens his mouth to ask exactly how that relationship came to be when Burt returns to Kurt's side with a plate of food. Instead of following through with that question, Kurt bids goodbye to Ken, figuring he can always ask later, and steers his father away. He eyes Burt's plate distrustfully, picking up a yellow cookie. "Please tell me you're not going to eat these; they're not organic."

Burt frowns at him. "How do you know they're not organic?"

"You can tell. The logo's printed on the cookie," Kurt explains impatiently, and a familiar head of red hair passes by. "Oh, Carole!"

Carole turns and smiles. "Hi, Kurt. Sebastian's downstairs if you're looking for him."

Burt raises an eyebrow and turns to Kurt. "Sebastian?"

"Just one of the volunteers here," Kurt says dismissively, grabbing his dad's arm and bringing him closer to Carole. "I actually wanted to introduce you two. Carole, this is my father Burt Hummel. You're both spouse-less at the moment, maybe you should talk."

Kurt doesn't bother to hide his smile at the way Burt's eyes sweep over Carole appreciatively and the way Carole obviously relishes in the attention. While the two adults begin a conversation on Carole's fashion choices, Kurt slowly backs away, taking the opportunity - for the first and only time in his life - to be thankful for the invention of acid washed jeans.

He meanders downstairs to find Sebastian and Deirdre, the peer leader of the Venus group, leaning over a laptop and talking in rushed tones, frantically scrolling and tapping at the device's trackpad. "Hi. What are you two looking at?"

"Deirdre's amazing powerpoint work," Sebastian says dryly, turning the laptop around to display a slideshow of mismatched background colors and fonts. It's enough to make Kurt turn away slightly and cringe. "Horrible, right? I didn't think that the word 'trashy' could be applied to any kind of electronic media, yet here's a prime example."

"Don't be an asshole, Seb," Deirdre snaps back. "If it were you, it'd all be white backgrounds with black Times New Roman font."

"At least it would be consistent."

"If by consistent you mean boring as all hell."

Kurt steps forward, finger hovering over the trackpad. "May I...?"

Sebastian eyes him for a second before shrugging. "Be our guest, but we've got to start the presentation in..." He glances up at the clock, "A little over half an hour. Think you can do it?"

But Kurt doesn't answer him. He presses his mouth into a thin line of concentration, changing the slide backgrounds into a soft white-to-ochre gradient, centering the titles and switching to simpler, easier-to-read texts. About ten minutes before presentation time, he finishes with a flourish and sits back, letting Sebastian and Deirdre give the design a final look-over.

"I like it," Deirdre says, her tense expression beginning to ease. "Simple but pretty."

"It's nice," Sebastian admits. "Consider me impressed."

He sets his eyes on Kurt and takes a good long look, as if this is the first time he's really seeing him. The attention makes Kurt's heart beat just a little faster.

"Thanks," Kurt manages.

"I'm going to go upstairs and start setting up," Deirdre says smiling, and she takes the laptop with her and is on her way without another word. Kurt's not sure if he should be grateful or nervous now that he and Sebastian are alone.

"So..." Sebastian drawls. "You're a cheerleader, you're in glee club, you do art and design - is there anything Kurt Hummel can't do?"

"Football," Kurt answers, and only when it's already out does he realize what a stupid response it is. "I played one game for my school's team before I realized that sweaty brutishness wasn't for me." He wants to hit himself now. _He's trying to flirt with you (isn't he?) and you're not giving him anything to work with._

Sebastian only chuckles dryly. "Yeah, playing on team sports takes a different kind of breed."

Suddenly Kurt remembers that Sebastian is on Dalton's lacrosse team, and his eyes widen in horror. "Oh god, I didn't mean - "

"I get what you meant," Sebastian interrupts. He doesn't look angry, just amused, though Kurt's not sure if that's any better. "You're right - hell, we both are. It's not for everyone."

Kurt shuts up then and nods tensely, looking up at the clock. "Your presentation starts soon, doesn't it? You should probably go upstairs now."

"You're going to watch, right?" Sebastian asks, standing up and brushing off his jeans. "We're supposed to be performing our duet right after."

"I'll be there," Kurt responds, and he takes his phone from his pocket. "In a minute." He opens last night's text from Mercedes and begins typing - something, anything, to make himself look occupied, and when Sebastian shrugs and leaves, he erases the text in progress and sits back in the chair with a sigh.

It's supposed to be easier than this. He's not supposed to be this awkward, he's Kurt Hummel for god's sake.

Then again, this really is the first time he's been interested in a guy (if he doesn't count that embarrassing third grade crush on Ronnie Powers complete with the "I choo-choo-choose you" valentine).

It'll get better, he figures. It has to.

* * *

><p>He's in the library, shuffling through files in the cabinet when he hears footfalls behind him.<p>

"Hey," Sebastian calls. "You almost ready?"

"Just looking for the sheet music," Kurt answers, furrowing his brow. "I thought I put it in the green file, but it's gone."

"Don't sweat it, I've got it right here."

He turns to see Sebastian waving the papers in his hand and he sighs in relief.

"More importantly..." Sebastian steps forward. "I was talking to my mom just a minute ago, and she introduced me to your dad. She seemed pretty... I don't know, enamored by him?"

A smile stretches across Kurt's face. "That's great - yeah, I introduced them when we first arrived."

"Really."

"Looks like they hit it off..." Kurt trails off, and suddenly he becomes very aware of the tension in Sebastian's voice, increased by the rigidity of his frame. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," Sebastian curls his lip up in a smile, though it looks more like a grimace. "Let's just get this done already."

He turns on his heel and stalks off, and Kurt swallows, silently following him to the club room before settling down on the piano bench. Sebastian makes a brief introduction to the audience, talking about the importance of knowing that there is always help out there, and Kurt can't help but notice the distinct tightness in his tone.

"So performing with me today is Kurt Hummel," Sebastian drawls, and Kurt bites his lip. The name coming from his mouth sounds like an insult more than anything else.

Still, he takes his cue and spreads his fingers over the ivories, playing the opening notes for "Hey Jude." Sebastian moves to the front of the baby grand and begins the first verse. When Kurt joins in with a harmony, he feels Sebastian's gaze on him, and he looks up briefly.

He wishes he hadn't. There's no masking, no forgetting the growing coldness of Sebastian's eyes. He's seen amusement, he's seen irritation, but never has he seen such a harshness to those eyes, and the sight makes his stomach churn uneasily. Quickly he looks back down and focuses on the sheets and the keys in front of him.

If he forgets for a moment that he's singing with Sebastian, if he pretends that he's singing to a crowd of people just by himself, it _almost_ erases the tension. It _almost_feels like he's not choking on his own breath. It works for a few minutes.

At least until the song ends. And when the audience applauds with whistles and hollers and Sebastian's staring at him with hard eyes and a forced smile, he barely manages to stand and bow over that awful feeling like he's done something horribly, horribly wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces). My apologies for this one being so short; it just works better with the pacing of the scenes.

**Rating:** PG13/T for now, will go up in later chapters

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p><strong>Smythe, Sebastian (9:38 PM):<strong> Did something happen?  
><strong>Me (9:40 PM):<strong> ...What do you mean?  
><strong>Smythe, Sebastian (9:41 PM):<strong> Didn't see you at group on monday. Or even the three mondays before that  
><strong>Smythe, Sebastian (9:46 PM):<strong> Kurt?  
><strong>Me (9:48 PM):<strong> I've been busy. Cheerios practice runs late now.  
><strong>Smythe, Sebastian (9:49 PM):<strong>haha, don't lie. You just didn't want to see me, huh?

Kurt stares at Sebastian's last text. He stares hard, stares until the individual letters all melt into one shape and the word "didn't" begins to look less like recognizable English and more like a clumsy selection of consonants in a foreign language. He brings his mind back to focus and reads the text again. And again. Just to see if repetition would be of any help.

It isn't. He drops his phone onto the mattress and shuts his geometry book, leaning back against the headboard to try and wrap his brain around what just happened. He tries to search for answers - god, he really, desperately wants to know - but no matter how hard he thinks, he can't come up with a good reason why Sebastian is texting and joking around with him now when the last time they saw each other, he looked like he wanted to shove Kurt in front of a speeding train.

Maybe something happened that night to put him in a foul mood. Then again, that attitude seemed to be directly mostly to Kurt. He can try to chalk it up to mood swings, but this is the first time he's seen it, and he's pretty sure that two hours every Monday for a month and a half is plenty of time for any mercurial behavior on Sebastian's part to manifest.

It just doesn't make any sense. But the more Kurt tries to analyze it, the more his head starts to hurt, so he puts his phone on silent and opens his book to finish up his math homework instead of worrying about the Sebastian issue.

He only goes back to read the text message - oh, about twenty times after that.

* * *

><p>He actually wasn't lying when he told Sebastian that Cheerios practice kept him from attending group - rather, that was at least part of the reason; he just conveniently left off the rest.<p>

It is exhausting though - with Regionals coming up soon, practice runs from 4 to 8:30 Monday through Friday plus 8 to 12 on Saturdays. Most days after practice he just wants a nice bath and a long rendezvous with his pillows, but his books are always sitting there on his desk as a constant reminder of his other obligations. Usually he gets his assignments done by midnight; other times he has to set his alarm to five in the morning just so he can get some shut-eye before committing to reading.

Luckily Mercedes knows exactly what he's going through - she does the same things with the same amount of passion, she _gets _it.

On Friday afternoon during practice, he's reaching over to grab the arch of his foot in a seated hamstring stretch and she's in the middle of evaluating the past week's glee performances when she suddenly stops talking, her eyes locked on something behind Kurt.

"Didn't know you were _that_ flexible. I like."

...What? No. This has to be some sort of cosmic joke.

"Sebastian, what..." Kurt begins, turning his head around to get a better look. As soon as he sets his eyes on him, he can't quite find words anymore, and he becomes painfully aware that this is the first time he's ever seen Sebastian in his Dalton uniform. Those awful polyester gray pants do no favors to anyone, Sebastian included, but the top half - he's taken off the blazer, casually slinging it along with his bookbag over his left shoulder. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and he's loosened his tie and undone one button -

- and god damn, he looks good. Kurt has to remind himself to breathe. "Um." He blinks and looks away just for a second, "What are you doing here?"

"You and I are logging in a little quality time with our parents tonight at Breadstix. Burt said you weren't picking up your phone, so I figured I'd come over here to relay the message... among other things." Sebastian cocks his head to the side, letting his eyes roam over his bent-over figure and Kurt flushes hotly on the realization that the other boy is blatantly checking out his ass. Immediately he sits up straight.

"Thanks. Is that it?" Kurt asks, tugging at the sweatband on his arm in a nervous habit.

"Pretty much." And then Sebastian just stares at him, again, and suddenly he feels bones-bare.

So badly he wants to know what happened that night, but when Sebastian's _here_, and friendly, and flirty, Kurt can almost forget that open house ever happened. After all - Sebastian's clearly over it now, right? No need to bring it up again.

But when he closes his eyes, remembers that cold stare, and considers his utter confusion upon receiving that warm, joking text, his morbid curiosity sparks up again. He can't help but hate himself a little bit for his indecisiveness. Before he can say anything - though he's still not exactly sure what he _would _say -

"_Rodent face in the steward outfit, this is not an open practice. Get the hell off my field!_"

He's not sure if he wants to thank or curse Sue for the disruption. In the end, he merely fights back his amusement at Sebastian's stunned expression. Maybe he can bring up the open house thing later, if he really wants to. "I'd get going. Coach Sylvester can be really unpleasant when she's angry."

"So it seems," Sebastian shakes his head incredulously. "Dinner's at 8. See you tonight."

Kurt watches Sebastian walk away until he's only a tiny speck in the distance. Then he turns back to face Mercedes, who's got a slightly affronted look to her features.

"Kurt..." She draws out. "You've got five seconds to tell me who the hell that was and why I'm only finding out about him now."

He sighs, bending back down over his other foot to complete his stretch as he begins his story. "Buckle up, Mercedes, you're in for a long ride."

* * *

><p>The dinner started off well enough - he'd even made a point to address the makeover he'd given Carole, including the replacement of those terribly unflattering mom jeans. But at some point after the calamari had arrived, Sebastian had brought up last month's Buckeyes game against the Wolverines, and it all went downhill very quickly after that as they jumped from basketball to football.<p>

Now his dad and Sebastian are discussing the merits of college versus NFL games, and Kurt might as well be invisible.

"There's more variety in offense in college," Sebastian says around a bite of bread. "Each team has a particular style. You kind of lose that edge when you go pro."

"Not to mention - most of the guys in the NFL?" Burt adds, taking a swig from his glass of Coke. "It's about money and pandering to the media. It's more about business than it is about the actual game. The trash talk's pretty entertaining though."

Kurt isn't sure what to feel.

This was what he wanted, right? He wanted their parents to bond. He wanted to get closer to Sebastian. He wanted this union to be like the Bouviers and the Kennedys. But when he watches them closely - just their faces, their body language, not necessarily what they're talking about - his stomach turns. His dad's got this look in his eye - enthused, involved, completely in his element.

The last time Kurt saw that look was when he played that one game for the Titans back in the fall - when he hadn't come out yet. His dad had been so proud of him for kicking that stupid goal, that smile stretching across his features - and now he's giving that same smile to Sebastian. Smiling like he's his son, when his real one is sitting just across the table.

He sinks back into the booth and puts his fork down as unobtrusively as possible, leaving his no-dressing, no-chicken salad untouched. Coach Sylvester would be so proud, he thinks bitterly.

"Kurt, sweetie?" Carole says, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he manages weakly, determined to keep his eyes on the table. "I'm just not hungry anymore."

* * *

><p>He should probably be more gentle with ripping the swatches down from his wall, but he really doesn't care right now. This redecoration was supposed to be a welcome change - along with other things that he refuses to think about, but things are going way faster than he anticipated and they are all wrong, wrong, <em>wrong<em>.

"I don't see why you can't just pick one, they all look the same to me."

At the sound of his father's approaching voice, his head begins to pound and he feels like he's about to be sick.

"Maybe if they were different colored sports, you'd work harder at telling them apart," he says venomously, throwing the swatches into the waste bin with more force than necessary.

"The football talk - it was just talk, you weren't supposed to take it personal."

"How could I not?" Kurt asks, and god he knows he sounds like a child right now, but he can't stop. It's all coming out. "You're never that engaged in a conversation with me."

Burt frowns. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you want."

Already he can feel the familiar prick of pressure behind his eyes - and damn, he really doesn't want to cry. "I want you to know how hard it is for me to see you bond with the son that you've obviously always wanted."

His vision blurs and he stumbles to sit down at his vanity. Maybe a sense of connection is what he needs, a physical link anchoring him down, keeping him stable. It doesn't work.

"What - Kurt, that's not fair," Burt's frown grows deeper. "I love you, and I'm sympathetic to all your stuff, but come on, we've got a deal here - we don't try to change each other, right?"

Kurt looks away. His head hurts.

"You're my son," Burt assures. "And a little guy talk with another kid isn't going to change that."

"Guy talk?" Kurt forces out, his voice broken. "_I'm _a guy."

"I - come on, that's not what I meant."

This is wrong. This is all wrong. Sebastian was supposed to be spending more time with Kurt, he wasn't supposed to be stealing his dad away. And okay, maybe he sounds like he's five years old with that kind of reasoning, but Kurt's already got so little going on for him, and if his dad gets taken away... he's not sure what he'll do. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it's too soon for you to get serious with someone."

Burt looks at him like he's been slapped, and Kurt feels like an _awful _person. "Your mom's been dead eight years."

He bites his lip, refusing to answer that, and Burt stares at him for a moment before walking away. He doesn't get very far and turns to speak, his voice trembling. "Why'd you set me up with Carole anyway, huh? Wasn't it to make me happy? Because that's what you said."

That was supposed to be a bonus, not the main reason, he wants to shout but doesn't, and the thought makes him feel even worse about himself. He really is horrible. "Can you go? I'm behind on my moisturizing routine and I need to get up early tomorrow."

It's a lie of course. As soon as his dad leaves, Kurt's going to be sobbing into his pillow and no amount of eye cream is going to fix how puffy his eyes will be. But his sinuses feel like they're about to crack with pressure and his skull feels like it's about to collapse in on itself and - he can't do this right now.

When Burt's footfalls upstairs fade away, a long moment passes and Kurt almost wishes that his father was still down here. At least during the argument he'd had a distraction. But now, in the silence of his room, his own thoughts are deafening and he can't ignore them if he tried.

* * *

><p>"Why didn't you text me back on Sunday?"<p>

Kurt tenses at the sound of the voice and takes a swig from his water bottle. "Seriously, Sebastian. You can't keep showing up during practice. At some point Coach Sylvester is going to pin the blame on _me_and then she's going to drill me with nonstop roundoff back handspring back tucks, and honestly I'm still terrified of doing them."

Sebastian stares blankly at him for a moment. "Okay, I don't know what the hell you're talking about but that's not important right now. You didn't answer me."

"I was busy."

"Yeah, I'm sure those Grey's Anatomy marathons are just _oodles _of fun."

"Are you done here? Go away," Kurt snaps, and he's mildly surprised by his own hostility. He didn't think he had it in him. Sebastian's still the guy he likes, after all, and yelling at him isn't exactly going to win any points in his favor.

Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he spends too much time dwelling on the fact that Burt's been going over to Carole and Sebastian's to watch basketball and talk about going to a Cubs game.

Crush or not, Sebastian _gets _his dad, he gets that glint of excitement going in Burt's eyes - with his stupid athletics and sports talk. Sebastian does, not Kurt. Not his own son.

The whole crush thing is completely irrelevant now. He knows it's stupid and petty and childish, but what else does he have besides his dad? Glee, maybe, and Mercedes - though honestly they've been less like friends this week and more like personal extreme weight loss coaches reminding each other not to eat. And - why is he still thinking about this?

"I have to get back to practice," Kurt says crossly, trying to ignore the pounding that's started at the back of his head. "You should leave."

Sebastian crosses his arms and glares. "What the hell is with you? You've been acting so weird recently, starting with that diva fit you threw when we all went to dinner that night."

"Diva fit?" Kurt scoffs. "I suppose you're right. My apologies for not being man enough to talk sports."

"What - " Sebastian cuts himself off, trying to understand. He studies Kurt for a short while before his eyes narrow in comprehension. "You felt left out." It sounds accusing, almost, like Kurt is the one to blame.

"As you can tell, I'm not exactly the poster child for NFL enthusiasm," Kurt answers, looking away. "So forgive me for wanting to spend my spare time watching fine ladies like Judy and Barbra and Patti instead."

"Well, you're worrying for nothing," Sebastian says, and his tone sounds almost amused. "I don't have an elaborate plan to steal your dad or anything. That's not my intention."

"Then what is your intention?" Kurt hisses. "Do tell, because - "

He shuts up. This is not how he wanted to ask about the open house thing. He didn't want to shoehorn it into a separate argument as cheap ammo when he's angry and hurt. This can't end well. The throbbing at the back of his head has only grown faster and stronger over the past few minutes - maybe he should have had that apple for lunch after all - and this is not the time to be dealing with this.

"We'll talk later," he says in a tone that leaves no room for argument, and he takes a second to enjoy the frustrated look on Sebastian's face before standing up to return to practice.

But he stands up and turns around too quickly and suddenly feels weak, and everything is blurry and the sky is spinning, spinning. He can barely make out a couple of Cheerios across the field performing a basket toss before everything goes black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces). My apologies for this one being so short; it just works better with the pacing of the scenes.

**Rating:** PG13/T for now, will go up in later chapters

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>He opens his eyes to beams and a textured ceiling. The lights are off - thank god for that, his skull feels like it's about to split in half and blinding him would not help - but he still notes the drab mushroom color of the curtain on his right side. Plus, whatever he's lying on is definitely not his beloved Tempur-Pedic.<p>

How on earth did he get to the school nurse's office?

"You fainted, so I brought you here."

Kurt shuts his eyes again and brings his thumb and fore finger up to rub at his frontal sinuses. He tries not to think about the implications of Sebastian _carrying _him in any way to the nurse. He isn't sure if he can handle the embarrassment. "Thank you."

There's a sound of something crinkling on his left side, so he opens his eyes, and Sebastian's holding out a granola bar to him. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," he says quietly.

"That's a load of bull and we both know it. I talked to your friend Mercedes while you were passed out. She said the only thing you had today was Splenda for breakfast. Eat the granola bar."

"Do you realize how many calories there are in one of those?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes and unwraps the bar, taking care not to touch it with his hands as he waves it under Kurt's nose. "Maybe 300, tops. That's nothing. One little piece of food isn't going to kill you. At least eat it so you can get enough energy to drive yourself home. Otherwise you'll be hitching a ride with me and you'll have to leave your poor baby at school overnight."

He does _not _want to depend on Sebastian for a ride or anything else, thank you very much. Not right now, anyway. He takes the bar and weakly swats Sebastian's hand away as he bites down. His stomach practically turns over itself in anticipation.

Sebastian crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. "So, aside from your weird extreme dieting thing, you want to tell me anything else that's going on?"

It's all coming back now - the argument before he'd passed out, Sebastian calling him out on his jealousy, him nearly asking about the open house thing. He struggles to sit up, and Sebastian helps, momentarily placing a steadying hand between his shoulder blades. The touch leaves a strange tingling sensation in its wake. Kurt takes another small bite and thinks for a moment. Well, now is as good a time as ever, right?

"I don't understand you," he says after a beat. "On the night of open house, you... looked like you wanted to murder me after you found out that I had introduced our parents. Then a month later you texted me like nothing was wrong. And then at the dinner you were suddenly best friends with my dad."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's about the gist of things."

Kurt narrows his eyes. "Why did you react that way, at open house? And why did you change your mind?"

He feels a little sick, asking all of this. He can't ever remember being so honestly open with anyone other than his dad. And the way Sebastian's looking at him right now isn't helping - he looks more like he's trying to solve a difficult puzzle than trying to communicate with another person, and the longer he continues to make that face, the more Kurt feels like an idiot.

"I'm not blind," Sebastian says finally. "I know you've had a crush on me for a while now."

A flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck. But he can't deny the claim - he's not a good enough liar and Sebastian would see right through it anyway.

"I also don't need a dad," Sebastian continues, and he looks at Kurt pointedly. "Mine walked out when I was nine years old. My mom is more than enough for me. You already knew all that. So when you introduced your dad to my mom, it was kind of like you didn't listen to me."

If talking things through is supposed to make Kurt feel better, it isn't working. He actually feels worse.

"And I know you probably just did it so we could get closer, right? Well, after that first night, Burt started coming over a lot. I didn't like it at first. I felt like... he was already too comfortable with my mom. Like I'd been forced into having this dad figure. I guess he noticed my attitude, and he just told me straight out: 'I'm not trying to become a second dad to you. But your mom deserves love, and I'm happy to be the person that gives her that as long as she'll have me.'"

Kurt has to smile at this. That definitely sounds like his dad.

"And I figured - it's not about me. It's not about my dad. It's about my mom, and how Burt was right. I know I can be a jerk sometimes, but my mom's different - I just want the best for her. And he seems to really care about her, and he makes her happy, so... I guess it's all right. And then we kinda bonded over sports and... well you know the rest."

It's a lot to think about. Kurt lies back down and takes a breath.

"Does that ease your worries?" Sebastian asks.

Kurt flattens out the empty granola bar wrapper and absently winds it around his finger. "It answers my queries, definitely." At this point he's not even upset that Sebastian knows of his feelings - the question remains: even if Sebastian claims not to be taking his place as son, what's to guarantee that he won't in the future? What's to say that this distance between him and his father won't grow?

His gut twists uneasily at the thought.

That can't happen. He won't let it.

* * *

><p>It begins like a sort of experiment.<p>

And sure, there are sacrifices to be made. He's been wanting to break in his new knee-high Docs, but those'll have to go back in the closet (he laughs at the irony). Instead he wears the Timberlands that he normally uses while working at the garage. His button-downs and scarves are traded for flannel and henleys, and the fedoras get swapped out for trucker caps.

He can do this. It'll be worth it. After all, he's already gone to buy groceries while wearing this and no one even gave him a second look like they would had he been wearing his designers.

On the other hand, the glee club had given him a wide range of strange looks when he sauntered into the choir room earlier today looking like he'd raided Finn Hudson's wardrobe. But if he wants to man up, this is the best way to do it.

He skips Cheerios practice for the day (maybe for the week, or forever, depending on how this whole thing pans out) and does his homework for a bit before heading to the Lambda Community Center.

There's an abrupt break in conversation when he walks into the meeting room and sinks down onto the couch next to Seth. "Hey," he says, his voice an octave deeper and a touch noncommittal.

Jake's jaw literally drops. Seth raises an eyebrow at him and gives a once-over. Rigo slips from his reclining position on the beanbag and stumbles to the floor. And Sebastian narrows his eyes, staring at him like he's - again - some puzzle to figure out. He's smart, he's probably already worked out Kurt's plan.

"Uh... hey Kurt," Jake says hesitantly once he regains the power of speech. "Haven't seen you in a while. You look..."

"Not as hot."

"The fuck, Rigo!" Jake hisses.

"What!" Rigo climbs back up on the beanbag. "I liked the tight jeans better. They showed off your cute little ass. This?" He points his finger and circles it wildly to gesture to Kurt's outfit. "Not a good look."

Kurt almost wants to laugh at the concept of being told that he, of all people, has on a less-than-stellar outfit. Instead he shrugs one shoulder and gives his rehearsed answer, "I'm just finally being true to who I am."

Rigo looks offended. So do the rest of the guys, and sensing the anxiety, Sebastian sits up in his chair. "Alright, I think we should call it quits early. Kurt, can I talk to you?"

Kurt tries not to take the looks that Seth and Jake and Rigo are giving him too personally and instead slouches down and props his feet up on the coffee table. "So talk."

Sebastian waits until he hears the last of the footsteps fade away and frowns at Kurt. "Cut it out."

He rolls his eyes. "I have no idea what you mean."

"This straight act," Sebastian answers, and Kurt's spine stiffens. "I'm guessing you're doing this so you can try to bond with your dad."

Always right.

"And even though that's a shitty idea, that's not the main reason why I'm concerned - you saw those guys' faces just now, didn't you? What kind of message did you think you were sending when you waltzed in here trying to straight it up?"

He tries not to let his guilt show on his face. "That's not my problem."

"Except it totally is," Sebastian snaps. "What the hell, Kurt? Those guys come in here to learn how to accept themselves for who they are - and here you're trying to do the exact opposite.

His carefully guarded facial expression is beginning to slip, he can feel it. To fight this, he shrugs and looks away. "Fun lecture. So what's your point? I shouldn't come here anymore?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that this," Sebastian gestures to Kurt's outfit, "isn't you."

Maybe not, but if it gets him to bond with his dad? He'll do what it takes. "I see now that coming here was a mistake. I'll see you around, Sebastian."

He ignores Sebastian's attempts to call him back. It's cowardly, running away like this. He's always been so proud of who he is. But when he gets home that night and asks his dad to talk about Mellencamp over burgers, he thinks things might just be looking up.

* * *

><p>Except they really aren't.<p>

The Glee club isn't as receptive to his rendition of Pink Houses as he thought they would be. Mostly they just look confused and vaguely disgusted - though Finn and Brittany look entertained at least. On the other hand, Rachel offers two loud sarcastic claps (well screw you too, Miss Berry, no one asked you to lose your voice and mangle "The Climb").

And god, the last thing he needs is another "be true to yourself" lecture from Mr. Schuester.

He tries everything. The wardrobe downgrade, the deeper voice, he'd even made it through watching a baseball game on TV without commenting on those awful stirrup pants.

He does all this but still Burt's going over to Carole and Sebastian's place for dinner and a game - almost more frequently than before - and Kurt is starting to run out of ideas and he finds himself getting more and more desperate.

He's convinced that Brittany might be the ticket that sells his dad on "the new him" but when Burt catches them making out in Kurt's room, he just looks very skeptical of the whole thing and reminds him that he loves him no matter who he is. Ordinarily this would sound somewhat like a victory speech. But not to Kurt.

The whole exchange leaves him a little unsettled. His heart feels heavy, like he's done something wrong but he's not quite sure how to fix it.

But above all, hiding in the most pessimistic recesses of his mind - he knows that this _can't _be fixed. And that thought terrifies him more than anything.

* * *

><p>He thought that he'd be able to last a few more days at least.<p>

But then it all comes to a crashing halt.

He can barely hear anything over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears and his emotions boiling inside and stabbing him over and over, but somehow manages to understand his father saying, "Sebastian caught a foul ball in the ninth at the Reds game, so that means free hoagies at Lenny's Hoagies and half off at the shooting range tonight. Don't wait up, okay?"

He almost doesn't want to breathe, fearful that as soon as he exhales, his entire life force will come rushing out and he'll be left dead on the floor. This can't be happening. All of this work - the clothes, the attitude change, the Mellencamp - was it all for naught? "Did you ever think that might be something I wanted to do with you?"

Burt raises an eyebrow. "Kurt, I saw you when we were watching the game last week. You looked like you wanted to tear your hair out from boredom."

Kurt looks away, aware that he probably looks like a petulant child right now. And what is he supposed to say to that? He'd only tuned in because he missed his dad.

"Look, me and Sebastian are just going to hang out for a while. I think he likes having someone with common interests around, even if he doesn't admit to it - but I promise when I get back, we can do whatever you want, okay?" Burt pats him on the shoulder. It's meant to be a comforting and warm gesture, but to Kurt it just feels like pity.

He watches his dad walk away, suddenly sick to his stomach.

* * *

><p>There's something cathartic about the stage. Up there he can unleash his heart to his audience - even if no one is sitting in the seats - and invoke the pathos that he so desperately wants to free. He sings, sings until he feels like his heart is going to explode, sings and means every word of it. And sure, maybe it's overkill - but he's always had a flair for the dramatic.<p>

He hits every note with all of the vocal power and anger he can muster, and when it's all over it's like all of his emotions have come rushing out - frustration, jealousy, desperation, sadness - although he doesn't feel any better. Now he just feels... empty.

And then hears applause.

His father walks down the side aisle of the auditorium, an impressed smile on his face. "That was some serious singing, kid."

He pulls himself up to full height, brushing his hair to the side. "That was Rose's Turn."

Burt shrugs. "Could get into that, maybe."

"What happened to the hoagies?" He asks, hating how weak he sounds.

"Ah, blew it off. Too much cholesterol and all that," Burt says. "And Sebastian understood. Once I told him how bent out of shape I thought you were."

"Me? I'm fine," Kurt forces a smile and - there it is, the telltale pressure pricking behind his eyes.

"Look, Kurt. I'm not stupid," Burt gives him a pointed look. "I have no idea what that song was about, but you sure as heck didn't _look _fine singing. And - yeah, maybe I got a little carried away doing stuff with Sebastian. But you've gotta know - when you were a baby, and I was holding you in my arms, did I dream about taking you to games and talking cars? Yeah, I did. A lot of fathers do."

He feels like he's been shoved into a tank of ice water, and he turns away before he lets any tears fall. "I had no idea I was such a disappointment to you."

"Hey, come on - that's not what I meant," Burt calls out, his voice suddenly stern. "Don't go playing the victim."

His eyes are rapidly filling with water but he turns back anyway. "I'm sorry, Dad, I just... Seeing the way you are with Sebastian - even though he's like me - I see how much easier it is for you. It breaks my heart. And I thought that if I tried, you'd think it'd be worth spending time with me, too."

Burt looks at him then and all of a sudden he feels like a kid again and his dad's trying to figure out how to read him. "Is that why you were pretending to date that cheerleader? That was why you started with the overalls and the Mellencamp?"

The first tear rolls down Kurt's cheek and he realizes that he doesn't feel empty inside anymore - the jealousy and desperation are back but they're making him feel more alive than he can ever remember feeling in the past few weeks. "I wanted to show you that I'm willing to work just as hard as you to make this okay."

His father steps forward and grips his shoulders firmly. This time it does feel like a comfort. "You don't have to work at anything, Kurt. Your job is to be yourself, and mine is to love you no matter what. Sure, it's not gonna be easy, but you're my son. And that's what matters."

They come together in a tight hug, Kurt clutching on like his life depends on it. Maybe it's the honesty in his father's voice or reassuring words or Kurt's own resignation or all of the above, but his heart begins to feel much lighter. The tears are still making his head ache - but in a strangely good way. "I missed you, Dad."

* * *

><p>When he walks into the Mars group the following Monday with his boots and favorite McQueen scarf, Rigo immediately launches toward him and wraps his arms around his neck, bringing him close.<p>

"You're back!" Rigo says, breathlessly happy.

Kurt looks over Rigo's shoulder at the similarly relieved expressions of Jake, Seth, and finally Sebastian, and he smiles softly, gently patting Rigo between the shoulder blades. "Yes I am - and I'm sorry about before."

"All's forgiven!" His friend pulls away, smiling hugely, and takes his hand to lead him over to the couch, where he orders Seth to move over so that he can sit with Kurt today.

And Kurt laughs at the display - what are they, six years old again? - but he can't help but feel touched. It really is like coming home.

* * *

><p>"I take it you worked things out with your dad?"<p>

Kurt smiles. "We talked. Agreed that it would be difficult, but I suppose all I needed in the end was a bit of reassurance."

Sebastian smirks. "Glad to know my plan worked, at least."

He raises an eyebrow. "Plan?"

"You probably noticed how Burt and I were hanging out a lot more - like almost every day - the past two weeks. That was entirely my doing. I figured if I could get you to a breaking point, you'd give up the butch act and start acting like yourself again."

Well that makes sense. But instead of the hurt and betrayal he should probably be feeling, he just feels... relieved, and oddly grateful to Sebastian. That doesn't stop him from poking a bit of fun though. "You sneaky ass," he laughs, stopping at his car door. He cracks it open and turns to Sebastian. "Though I should thank you. No one else would have thought to do that for me."

"Even I've been through identity crises before," Sebastian shrugs. "They suck. And seeing you like that, especially when I _know _that's not who you are - was just wrong."

Somehow he can't picture someone as confident as Sebastian going through an identity crisis. It just... doesn't match up. Then again, he'd have said the same thing about himself just three weeks ago.

"And Rigo had a point. The butch look was hideous on you."

...And that ruined it. Kurt rolls his eyes. "You and him - I don't know if I find your honesty charming or insulting."

"Probably a bit of both," Sebastian answers blankly, though there's a hint of a smile on his face.

"Shame personality transplants don't exist yet," Kurt deadpans, opening his door further until Sebastian halts his movements.

"I really am glad you're back though," Sebastian says softly. "You shouldn't have to change who you are just so you can be accepted. There's no one like Kurt Hummel - he's out there, dresses like he stepped off a runway at Fashion Week and can be kinda bitchy sometimes, but that's a good thing."

Kurt looks at Sebastian then, really looks and it finally sinks in - Sebastian knows about his feelings. Sebastian _knows_.

He hopes that the combination of the black night sky and the dim street lamps are too dark to show his rapidly flushing cheeks. He hadn't really thought about it before, having been too preoccupied with fitting in, first with the Cheerios and then with his father's ideal. Now there's nothing to hide behind - Sebastian knows. Is it going to be awkward between them? God, he isn't sure if he can handle that.

But it'll only be as awkward as they make it, right? And if Sebastian was willing to talk to him during his crisis, then that means he's willing to make it work. It's only fair that Kurt returns the favor.

Sebastian's staring at him now, his eyes almost tender and it makes Kurt's heart skip. In a sudden burst of determination, he leans forward and presses a brief kiss to Sebastian's cheek. Just a friendly gesture, he reasons. Nothing more and nothing less.

When he pulls back, Sebastian looks a bit surprised if anything. He doesn't look disgusted and he hasn't taken off running, so that's a good sign. In fact - if Kurt's not imagining things, he even looks a little pleased.

"Thank you for helping me come to my senses," Kurt says, his eyes bright. "Thank you for believing in me."

And when he lays his head down to sleep that night, Kurt has nothing but pleasant dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

**Rating:** PG13/T for now, will go up in later chapters

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>He's sitting at his usual table at the Lima Bean, poring over the wonderful world of sine, cosine, and tangent when someone abruptly plops down into the seat opposite him.<p>

"Hey slick."

He rolls his eyes and smiles wryly. Sebastian's uncanny ability to find him without calling in advance never ceases to amaze him. "Hello yourself, Sebastian. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I need your help with something. And I need you to promise me that you won't laugh."

"I can't promise that without knowing what it is you're asking," Kurt answers, looking back down at his homework, tapping his pencil against his chin.

Sebastian just sits there quietly, rapping his fingers against the table, and Kurt looks up, half amused and half frustrated. Clearly he won't be able to finish his homework, so he drops the pencil and stares levelly at Sebastian. "Fine, no laughing. What do you need?"

"I -" Sebastian pauses, looking like he's hating himself for admitting this, "I need your help shopping."

Kurt tries to bite back a smile. "Really."

"Yeah, I - don't look at me like that," Sebastian says defensively. "I just figured that maybe I could do without the popped collars."

Kurt hums his agreement. "Yes, those are particularly heinous."

That gets him an eyeroll in return. "So are you going to help me or not?"

"I do wonder why you're suddenly interested in a wardrobe change, but I won't pry for now. Let's wait until you and I are at the mall on Saturday." Kurt sits back in his chair and lifts up his cup in salute. Sebastian returns the gesture with a raised eyebrow, and they polish off their coffee.

Well, one thing's for sure - it's going to be an interesting weekend, regardless of the outcome.

* * *

><p><strong>4195552845 (7:12 PM):<strong> kuuuurrrt  
><strong>Me (7:13 PM):<strong> Who is this?  
><strong>4195552845 (7:13 PM):<strong> its rigo. seb gave me your no  
><strong>Me (7:15 PM):<strong> Oh, haha. You had me worried. I thought it was some creep or a stalker. Glad to know it's only one of those things.  
><strong>Torres, Rodrigo (7:17 PM):<strong> you're so mean!  
><strong>Torres, Rodrigo (7:18 PM):<strong> are you busy this sat? there's this new thai place downtown that i wanted to try :)  
><strong>Me (7:21 PM):<strong> Sorry, I made plans with Sebastian already. I'm going to help him shop and you know how much of a mess his wardrobe is.  
><strong>Torres, Rodrigo (7:23 PM):<strong>oh? who's the poor sap this time? i've been trying to get him to permanently ditch the abercrombie american eagle look for ages but he's only willing to do it when he wants to get in a guy's pants

Kurt frowns at his phone and sits up in bed. He had been wondering why Sebastian suddenly chose now of all times to update his wardrobe - and honestly, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

_What do you mean? _he taps onto the screen.

The response seems to take forever, but in reality it's probably been less than a minute. _He'll temporarily change his style of dress or pretend to be interested in something to impress a guy. its one of his tricks. you know how big a flirt he is, he flirts with you too_

He stops to think about this. If what Rigo's saying is true, then all of the winks, all of the lingering glances, all of the times Sebastian checked out his ass - were all just part of his nature. They didn't mean anything. That can't be right... there had to be some genuine interest in there. Maybe.

_It's a good thing I don't take him seriously_, he texts to Rigo.

_Exactly! you're so much smarter than that :) _is the response he gets, and the words make his stomach churn.

Well, things just got ten times more complicated. But it looks like he'll have the chance to figure it out this Saturday. Somehow.

* * *

><p>He's in the middle of debating if New Directions' bitter loss at Regionals last week is sufficient enough reason to justify buying a navy nautical print scarf when his eyes wander over to the menswear section.<p>

Sebastian's staring hard at a gray pinstriped Alfani Red button-down, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I still like the lavender better," Kurt offers, sidling up to him. "Something different."

Sebastian makes a face. "Nope, we made an agreement. Don't you remember? You get to pick what cuts and styles look good on me, I choose colors and patterns."

Kurt sighs. "Excuse me for trying to liven up your rather limited color palette."

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I want clothes in every color on Joseph's dreamcoat."

Kurt wrinkles his nose. "Oh, I hated that musical."

"Me too. Potiphar's wife was pretty boss, though."

"She was a hussy who couldn't keep her hands to herself. I'm not surprised she's your favorite." Immediately Kurt stiffens at his own words, wondering if he's gone too far, but Sebastian just laughs.

"Well, they always say that people gravitate towards their own, right?"

Then Sebastian turns back to the shirt and Kurt bites his lip. Truth be told, he'd forgotten what Rigo said until just a moment ago. But now that his thoughts are going in that direction - he can't leave it alone.

So Sebastian is a natural flirt - he'd known that ever since he'd walked in to the Mars group all those months ago. But those smiles, those looks, that almost eerie way he knows where Kurt is? Does he do that for just anyone?

He can't be making all this up in his head. There's no way.

But then again, this is really his first time hanging out with Sebastian. Usually they chat a bit during and after group, and sometimes they go to dinner with their parents. There's also the Lima Bean, but they usually don't stay long enough for Kurt to pick up on Sebastian's habits.

He may have a better idea of who Sebastian is in terms of how just the two of them interact, but when it comes to who Sebastian is when interacting with other people? Other guys? He's drawing a complete blank.

Kurt glances over to the cash register, where Sebastian is eagerly leaning over the counter and chatting up a very attractive, very obviously straight athlete-type. From his vantage point, he can see Sebastian tracing circles on the counter while the sales associate looks incredibly uncomfortable. The sight sends an irrational surge of - frustration? jealousy? - he's not sure which, probably both - up his spine and he marches up to the register.

"Sorry about Romeo over here," he smiles curtly to the sales associate, trying to avoid giving the guy a once-over of his own. He can certainly see why Sebastian was trying to flirt with him. Kurt's reminded vaguely of a blond Finn Hudson when he looks at him. A bit shorter though. And probably smarter.

The sales associate just gives Kurt a strange look and Kurt gives him one right back, but it's not until he's pulling Sebastian away by the elbow that he hears the guy say to his coworker, "Jesus, there's two of 'em. Since when was Macys Men the happening place for queers?"

He can feel the tendons in Sebastian's arm tighten at those words, and before either of them can do anything they might regret, he tugs harder and doesn't let go until they're well outside of the store.

"God, what a douche. Now I'm glad you stopped me, he's totally not worth the effort after that comment."

"Cute but ultimately worthless," Kurt agrees, leading the way in the direction of the food court. "Well, I'm famished. What about you?"

* * *

><p>He's been avoiding the subject since the day started, but it's well into the lunch hour and he still has yet to ask why Sebastian wants this sudden turnaround. He thought maybe a little time would disprove what Rigo said in their text exchange, but instead it seems to have had the opposite effect. Not only had Sebastian zeroed in on that douchebag Macys clerk, but when the guy making his sandwich at Subway asked him what kind of meat he wanted, he had leaned against the glass and said, "yours, hot stuff," with a wink.<p>

Kurt isn't sure who he's more embarrassed for - the sandwich boy who had turned into a human tomato or Sebastian for that terrible and completely inappropriate come-on. Or even himself, for still liking the guy despite his tendency to say things like that.

"You really have no self-restraint, do you?" he asks around bites of his veggie delite. "That poor guy was mortified. And his boss was right there."

"I still say that it was just a case of the wrong-place-wrong-times."

Kurt shoots him a half-hearted glare. "Your inability to feel remorse is absolutely charming."

Sebastian gives him an affronted look. "I do feel sorry! For myself though. You saw the lips on that boy, imagine what he's capable of."

"I refuse to indulge you _or _your thoughts," Kurt says, shaking his head, putting his sandwich down. He thinks for a bit while drinking his water - god, he's put off asking about this wardrobe change for the longest time. Why can't he just right out ask?

"You look confused," Sebastian says with a smirk.

Ah, an opening. "Only because you have yet to tell me why you suddenly wanted to abandon your fratboy look. I'm not complaining - it is a terrible style after all - but my curiosity is piqued."

"Where's the shame in wanting to look good?"

Kurt swallows hard. "Do I know him?"

Sebastian frowns. "What?"

"The boy you're so obviously trying to impress," Kurt answers, wrapping up the remainder of his sandwich. He feels sick to his stomach. "Do I know him?"

Then Sebastian looks at him and he can't stand it because he knows what he sees in those eyes - pity. That alone gives him his answer. "Kurt, I don't want to do this with you -"

But like an idiot, he keeps plowing though. "I'm not made of glass, I won't break just because I hear something I may not like," Kurt continues, even laughing a little. He hopes that Sebastian doesn't hear just how humorless and harsh it sounds. "Just tell me."

Sebastian's still giving him this dubious look, and Kurt has to give him an expectant eyebrow for him to finally cave in and answer. "No. You don't know him."

His hands begin to shake, and before Sebastian can see, he folds them in his lap. The truth hurts, but he asked for it, didn't he?

He pushes a smile to the surface and nods. "Tell me about him."

"You sure?"

It's comforting to know that he's at least considerate. That's all he can really ask for now. "We're friends. We should be able to talk about stuff like this, right? I don't want things to be awkward."

"I guess," Sebastian shrugs. "Well, he just transferred to Dalton."

"This close to the end of the semester?"

"There was an incident at his old school. I don't know the details," Sebastian chuckles, biting into his sandwich. "But he's super hot. And he sings like a dream, too. Auditioned for the Warblers last week. Made it in by a unanimous vote."

There's an easy smile on Sebastian's face - he's probably not even aware of it - and the sight makes Kurt's chest ache. He breathes deeply. "He sounds... perfect."

Sebastian looks down, his smile growing just a bit wider. "Yeah. He kind of is."

All of Kurt's willpower and strength seems to have slipped away from him - it hurts to look at Sebastian. But he can't make a scene and run off right now - wasn't he the one who said he didn't want things to be awkward? He intends to keep his word, no matter how difficult it may be.

So instead he sits, staring at Sebastian but never really meeting his eyes - hoping, wishing that he doesn't look nearly as broken as he feels.

* * *

><p>"This is love we're talking. That's hard enough for most people. <em>And <em>you're gay in Ohio - that doesn't help any, let's be honest."

Kurt sighs, digging a spoon into his half-finished pint of half-baked. "I know I brought it on myself - he didn't want to tell me about him at first. I couldn't help it, I wanted to know. As if... if he couldn't give me any details, there would still be that slight chance that he was referring to me. I suppose it just wasn't meant to be."

"You don't need to tell _me _about unrequited love," Mercedes says, giving him a pointed look, and Kurt has to crack a tiny smile at that. "But seriously, all you can do at this point is be a good friend to him. And don't expect anything, but maybe - one day - he'll realize who's been there this whole time and turn to you."

"I'm not holding my breath," Kurt answers darkly, stabbing his spoon into the ice cream more violently.

Mercedes lays a warm hand on his to still the movements and gives him a pitying look. "Take it easy."

"Sorry," Kurt says, and after taking in a deep breath, he puts the ice cream on the night stand. "Love is terrible, Mercedes."

"It sucks," she agrees, scooting up to lean against the headboard next to Kurt. She hits the play button on the remote and sits back. "But let's get back to the movie. Who cares about boys when we have Jacob on our screen, right?"

Kurt offers a tiny smile and picks up his water bottle to hit it with Mercedes' in a toast. "Best painkiller there is," he responds, and for the next two hours he forgets about confusing prep school boys and focuses on Taylor Lautner's abs instead. It's a welcome distraction.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god," Rigo moans after the first bite of food. "This is orgasmic."<p>

"Do you mind quieting down a little?" Kurt laughs. "People will think that I'm doing inappropriate things to you underneath the table."

"First off, screw them. Second off, as long as it's you doing those things, I am totally okay with it."

Kurt shakes his head. Rigo can be just as inappropriate as Sebastian sometimes, but he's usually joking. Sebastian on the other hand... it's a little tougher to tell with him.

"So what's with Seb anyway?" Rigo says conversationally, and Kurt jumps a little. Had he been speaking out loud? "I noticed he wasn't in his normal douchey style last Monday. He looked a lot more polished - great choices for him, by the way. Did he tell you who his new boy toy is?"

"Something like that," Kurt admits, pushing the salad around on his plate. "Apparently it's a new transferee at his school."

"Probably the innocent virginal type. That's always been Seb's number one weakness," Rigo says, stealing away a carrot slice from Kurt's plate.

"How long have you two known each other, anyway?"

Rigo chews carefully in thought. "Seventh grade, maybe? No! Sixth grade. We met at science camp. And then we both started coming to Lambda in seventh."

"And he's always been..."

"A slut?" Rigo supplies helpfully.

Kurt frowns, guilt creeping over his features. "I wasn't going to say that."

"But that's what you were thinking," Rigo grins, taking a sip from his thai iced tea. "As far as I know, yeah. He's always proud to say that he was an early bloomer. He once told me a story of how he sucked off a guy in the bathroom the first day of junior high. Whether that's actually true or not? No idea."

"Oh, that's the textbook definition of 'too much information.'" Kurt makes a face - one, because hello, they're talking twelve/thirteen year olds fooling around and two, because said tween relations involve Sebastian. Sure, he knows about Sebastian's reputation, but he hasn't allowed himself to think in detail about _exactly_what he's done. Honestly, he doesn't want to know - what's important is the here and now. "So he's never been in a real relationship before?"

Rigo scoffs. "The guy counts random hookups as relationships, the shortest one lasting two minutes and the longest one lasting maybe half a day, if you total up the amount of time spent with repeat visitors."

The words make Kurt's stomach churn, but there is a certain hope lurking beneath. "And the likelihood of him seriously going after someone now?"

Rigo shoots him a strange look. With every question he asks, he becomes more and more transparent - but he needs to know. And even if Rigo finds out, he's not the type who would tell Sebastian - the most he'll do is warn against trying to go after him. "Probably not likely."

"Hmm," Kurt leans back casually and and forks a small amount of salad into his mouth - though his calm exterior masks the overwhelming sense of relief threatening to take over him from the inside. "Well, that's enough gossiping about our friend. I loved the shoes you wore on Monday, where did you find them?"

* * *

><p>By now he knows that the object of Sebastian's affections is (1) a boy their age who has to repeat sophomore year at Dalton - hospitalization for the past three and a half months hasn't given him enough credit to move up (2) like a modern-day young Marlon Brando (according to Sebastian) and (3) named Blaine Anderson.<p>

What kind of name is that, anyway?

Great, now he's been reduced to mocking people for their names. This isn't the person he was raised to be. He sends a silent apology to Blaine - whoever he is. _It's nothing personal_, he reasons, _I just don't like hearing Sebastian talk about you. It makes me physically ill_.

But he knows that it's entirely his fault, too. Sebastian's usually reluctant to talk about this guy; Kurt's the one who has to ask. He isn't sure why he does it. Maybe he just likes to emotionally torture himself.

It always hurts, seeing Sebastian flirt with someone else. But that's all it is really. Harmless flirting. If he gets serious about Blaine, though, Kurt isn't sure if he can take it - because that's a conscious decision that Sebastian will make, ultimately saying that someone is worthy enough of settling down with - someone who's not Kurt.

But luckily from what Kurt knows about Sebastian - he knows that he won't settle down that easily. His fickle nature is, ironically, the most stable thing about his relationship with boys. And while Kurt hated it before, he's certainly counting on it now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

**Rating:** PG13/T for now, will go up in later chapters

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>"So how are things going with Blaine?"<p>

Sebastian hesitates, then shrugs. "We go out for coffee sometimes. Study dates too. But no dinner or movie yet, if that's what you're wondering."

"Have you asked him?" Kurt leans back in his chair, folding his hand over his knee.

"Yeah, but I don't think he takes me seriously," Sebastian chuckles. It sounds a little self-deprecating. "Whenever I mention a movie, he always just kind of laughs and agrees, but we never make any solid plans for it."

Kurt can't find it in himself to encourage Sebastian's pursuit - there's only so much enthusiasm he can feign - but he's nowhere near cruel enough to say that he's glad that Blaine isn't taking the bait.

Sebastian looks at him then - looks at him with this knowing expression on his face. He doesn't say anything out loud, but the heavy weight of his stare cuts through loud and clear - _why do you keep asking about Blaine? If you like me why do you want to know?_

And Kurt can't meet his eyes. He'll stare at the tip of his boot, at his fingertips as they tap his knee, at his coffee as he stirs the murky liquid even though the Splenda's long been dissolved. He'll do anything but look at him, because even though he may not have to worry about Sebastian's pursuit (he'll stop eventually), he doesn't want to see those eyes filled with pity either.

Kurt Hummel is not a charity case. Damned if he'll be treated like one.

Instead he shrugs - the gesture is noncommittal enough, he figures. "I'm sure you'll work something out."

There. It's not encouraging, exactly. But it's not tearing him down, either.

That's all he can do for now.

* * *

><p>"Dinner was great, Kurt," Burt smiles, handing his son his empty plate.<p>

"Really?" Kurt wrinkles his nose. "I think I could have let the sauce reduce a bit more. It's still a little runny."

Burt stares at him for a spell and then shakes his head smiling. "You really are like your mom. She'd get down on herself for small stuff like that too."

That's actually a huge compliment - so Kurt beams, carrying the dishes over to the sink.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Burt starts, fishing out a can of Coke from the fridge. "I got a surprise - what do you think about some change around here?"

Kurt laughs. "How intriguing. Any minute now you'll say, 'how would you feel about a new brother or sister?'" Then after a beat, he tenses at the words and turns to Burt. "Please tell me that's not the surprise. Are you adopting? Tell me you aren't, unless it's a cute kid from Cambodia like Maddox."

"Wait, what?" Burt looks at him like he's lost his mind, then he starts to chuckle in amusement. "You've been watching too much TV, kid. It's nothing like that."

"Oh, thank god," Kurt sighs in relief. "What is it then?"

"I'm thinkin' of asking Carole and Sebastian to move in with us."

The dish Kurt's holding slips out of his grip, and he reaches out lightning-fast to grab it again, keeping it from crashing into the tiled sink edge. "O-Oh," he squeaks. "Really?"

Luckily Burt doesn't notice his slipup; he's currently busying himself with examining the contents of the fridge - presumably picking out his lunch for tomorrow. "Yup. I figured I spend enough time over there anyway, and they're over here for dinner on the weekends more than they aren't. Only thing left is taking that next step in commitment, right?"

And Kurt - well he's not quite sure how to feel. On one hand he and Sebastian could be living in the _same house_, sharing the same space, probably the same room - this house is only a two-bedroom, after all - and that all leads up to more time with Sebastian. But on the other hand, it's _because _of that shared space - that he's terrified. He's lived as an only child all his life, set in his ways - and Sebastian's probably set in his.

It's only now that he truly realizes the weight, the gravity of introducing Carole to his dad - it's only during this moment that everything falls into its place in reality, and there are far too many emotions swirling around in his heart and his brain and he's not sure if he's supposed to smile or cry. He sets the plate down and grasps the edge of the sink, willing his head clear.

_You. Sebastian. Living together_, his brain reminds him. _This can only be a good thing. Maybe it'll even take his mind off Blaine._

At that thought, he brightens, though his smile is still shaky. "Of course, Dad. Why not?"

* * *

><p>He turns at the sound of footsteps to see Carole awkwardly guiding Sebastian down the stairs. They're saying something, but Kurt can't be bothered to figure out exactly what - his heart is racing, and he kind of wishes that he was sipping something stronger than sparkling cider (but then again, he recalls the incident with Miss Pillsbury's shoes, so maybe not).<p>

Then things come to a stop when Carole takes her hands from Sebastian's eyes and lets him examine his surroundings. It's the first time Sebastian's been inside his room, Kurt realizes. Though he supposes that's not that big of a deal anymore, considering that they'll be sharing from now on.

Sebastian's confused gaze lands on Kurt and Burt, who stand near the hors d'oeuvres and cider table.

"Welcome home, buddy," Burt says warmly.

"Home...?"

"Think of this as... your housewarming party," Kurt says, holding out a glass of cider. He suspects that it's more surprise - shock, maybe - than anything else that spurs Sebastian to take the glass.

"Burt asked us to move in with them!" Carole adds, practically bursting at the seams with excitement.

Sebastian goes rigid at this announcement. "What?"

Burt tugs Carole to his side in a half-hug. "It's a little cramped, and you kids will have to share a room for a while, but we'll all be together - that's what's important."

"It'll take some getting used to, I know," Carole says, reaching out to squeeze Sebastian's hand. "But this is a good thing for us. Trust me."

That seems to snap Sebastian out of his zone-out, and he blinks several times before slowly nodding. "Yeah. Of course, Mom." He gives a strained smile to Carole, but she doesn't seem to notice his lack of enthusiasm, and she beams at him before turning to Burt to discuss setting up a bird feeder in the backyard.

Then Kurt steps toward Sebastian and takes another sip of cider before offering a bright smile and saying, "Looks like we'll be roomies then."

And immediately he knows that's the wrong thing to say. Sebastian's features curl into a sneer, and Kurt instinctively wants to shrink back. Instead he defensively crosses his arms over his chest.

"No kidding," Sebastian says, eyes narrowed. "Quite a situation we've got here."

* * *

><p>Kurt had expected a relatively fast move-in, considering how quickly Carole had agreed to the arrangement in the first place, but he'd thought it would take <em>at least<em>a month to pack up their things.

Naturally, he's surprised when only two weeks later there's a U-Haul in the driveway and Sebastian and Carole are lugging labeled cardboard boxes inside the house. He and Burt help, of course - and by the time they're finished, the sky is nearly dark, and all four of them collapse on the living room couches, limp and exhausted. They can't be bothered with cooking - so Kurt gives the okay for this being the "junk food" dinner of the week and orders a couple of pizzas for delivery.

The following days prove to be incredibly awkward. Sebastian hasn't spoken to him since that little housewarming party he and Burt threw, and since McKinley High finally let students out for the summer last week, there isn't much to do around here. He's got a movie date planned with Mercedes tomorrow night, and there's always shopping... but he's got to log in a few more hours at the garage first to get some money. But today feels like a lazy day, and getting smudged with motor oil does not sound appealing at all.

He yawns and sits up, stretching. He nearly shrieks when he sees Sebastian across the room bending over a box. God, how long as he been there? Kurt presses a hand to his scalp to tame this morning's particularly horrendous bedhead, but the effort is useless - it's going to look terrible until he gets some product in it.

Suddenly he regrets not taking up Rigo's completely outlandish habit of sleeping with a can of hairspray under the pillow - Sebastian's _right there_, and here's Kurt looking completely wrecked and he probably won't be able to manage a mad dash to the bathroom.

_What does it matter - you're living together now, it was bound to happen at some point_, the rational part of his brain argues, and while that's true, it still doesn't stop him from feeling self-conscious.

Sebastian glances at him as he shelves his Blu-rays, schooling his expression into that of annoyance. "I see Sleeping Beauty's finally up."

"Wow, you're talking to me again," Kurt shoots back without thinking. He grimaces immediately after speaking, bracing for the inevitable fallout.

"My apologies," Sebastian replies in a tone that says he's really _not sorry at all_, "I usually need a few days to myself after someone tries to manipulate me."

"What are you even talking talking about?"

"Don't act like you don't know. Me and Mom moving in? I bet this was your idea."

Kurt sits up fully now, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. "Right, because I'm _that _desperate."

"I wouldn't put it past you - hell, you're the only reason why our parents are even dating in the first place."

Kurt's beginning to feel the licks of anger creeping up his chest. "And I'm supposed to think that's a bad thing? You see how your mom smiles now - would you really take back her happiness just because you don't want to share a stupid room?"

"That's not the issue!" Sebastian snaps, carelessly throwing a handful of DVDs to the ground. The clatter sounds unnaturally harsh to Kurt's ears. "This isn't about sharing a room - it's about you trying to get your way because you like me. Isn't that right?"

Kurt lets out a humorless laugh. "Oh that's rich, coming from someone who regularly uses flirting and manipulation to get the boys he wants."

Sebastian's eyes narrow dangerously, and for a split-second Kurt actually can feel a bit of fear gripping the base of his spine. "Yeah, though my efforts don't encroach on 'creepy and invasive.'"

The words are like a blow to his gut. "You've got a strange definition of 'creepy and invasive' if hitting on random straight guys at the mall isn't included in there."

Then Sebastian laughs incredulously - actually laughs. "I don't have time for this," he says, crossing the floor to get to the foot of the stairs. "Tell me when you want to stop being such a whiny little brat."

His footfalls up the stairs only stoke Kurt's anger. "So we're name-calling now?" he demands, but Sebastian doesn't answer him. "Grow up, Sebastian!"

The door slams shut.

* * *

><p>They don't speak for the next few hours - Kurt's plans of lounging around all day were ruined by the morning's argument, so he resorts to bringing his copy of <em>Front Row: Anna Wintour <em>to the Lima Bean.

Unfortunately there's only so much coffee he can drink - he'll probably be steering clear of the stuff for a good month.

It's almost dusk when he pulls into his driveway. Sebastian's car is still parked against the curb, and Kurt feels a little sick as he enters the house through the garage door.

He heads to the kitchen - but just his luck - Sebastian's sitting at the island nursing a bottle of water.

And he's smiling - or smirking? It's hard to tell this time around.

Kurt stops in his tracks at the doorway, hesitantly pulling up the strap of his messenger bag. What's he supposed to do in this situation? Walk away and pretend he never came in? Be the bigger man and initiate conversation? A part of him doesn't want to - 'whiny brat' still kind of stings.

"You smell like coffee," Sebastian says evenly, and Kurt's not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or an insult.

"I was at the Lima Bean," he answers, narrowing his eyes. "Unless I'm not allowed to go there anymore."

"I wish I could care more about how pissy you're being right now," Sebastian says, and - yeah, that's definitely a smirk, not a smile. "No - you know what? I don't. You don't get to ruin my mood."

"Despite what you may think, my life's objective is not to make yours a living hell," Kurt snaps back, reflexively throwing his messenger bag onto one of the bar stools. "Thank you for thinking so highly of me."

It's frustrating - even if he were to tell the truth, that it was his father's idea for Carole and Sebastian to move in - he'd never believe him. Why waste his energy trying to explain?

He stalks over to the fridge and grabs a water bottle, picking his bag back up on the way out - but then Sebastian speaks again.

"So I scored a movie night with Blaine."

Kurt stops abruptly.

"Iron Man 2 probably. I've seen it already, but he hasn't, so we decided to make a date out of it." He sounds so incredibly _smug _that Kurt's hands twitch - eager to hit or turn something over.

His airways feel tight, his head muddled. "Oh," he responds after a long moment, his voice pitchy. "Congratulations. I hope it doesn't completely blow up in your face."

He affixes a too-bright smile to his features and turns around just long enough to see Sebastian glaring at him.

If this were any other time, Sebastian's silence would have Kurt cheering in triumph, but now as he heads back to their shared room, he can only sum up how he's feeling as _unsatisfied_. Where's the merit in having the last word when Sebastian is still going on that date?

Jealousy, he decides, trying to mentally tamp down the burning at the bottom of his chest, is a horrible, horrible thing.

* * *

><p>There's only one explanation for this: his masochistic streak is beginning to set in again. Why else would he be sitting in front of his computer, Facebook stalking the boy Sebastian's set his sights on?<p>

Sebastian's description of Blaine - _super hot _- echoes in Kurt's mind, and his eyes momentarily swim with irritation. He pounds the name in the search bar anyway, the keys clacking hard.

There are several dozen Blaine Andersons, but thank god for technology - the results narrow down to the counties near Kurt. The first is - well. He's certain that the Blaine Anderson he has in mind is not a white-haired middle-aged gentleman with a mustache.

The second one, though - he clicks.

_From Westerville, Ohio. You and Blaine Anderson: Sebastian Smythe is a mutual friend._

Found him. But the excitement is short-lived - all of his information's been set to private, leaving only his profile picture for examination. But that doesn't help much either - it's a group photo of boys in what he recognizes as the Dalton uniform. The image is rather blurry; even those faces closest to the foreground are indiscernible.

Well, this was a colossal waste of time. Kurt sits back against the headboard, unsettled as he glances up at the wall clock. Sebastian had left for his date with Blaine just over an hour ago.

Blaine. Blaine, who is not Kurt.

Blaine, who is exactly Sebastian's type.

They're probably having a wonderful time watching that stupid movie. Hell, they're probably not even watching - they're probably in the very back row of the theater, hands everywhere, clothes rumpled, Blaine's tongue down Sebastian's throat.

Kurt's stomach turns. No. Stop thinking about horrible things like that. Stop while they're only words in your head and not pictures.

But as soon as that thought passes, he gets an image in his head, clear as day. Sebastian and some faceless blond with hair like Andrew McCarthy's. Kissing heatedly, marks purpling their necks, their faces illuminated only by the light bouncing off the screen. He pictures himself sitting just in the next row, his neck craned back to watch them out of morbid curiosity.

His eyes begin to burn, and he grabs his phone and presses the most recent number in his call history.

"What's up, Kurt? I thought we weren't meeting til 8."

"Change of plans, Mercedes," Kurt says breathlessly, hating that he sounds so dangerously close to tears. "Can you come over for stay-in movie night instead?"

There's a long silence, and he wonders if Mercedes has hung up. But then she makes a noise of agreement. "Sure, Kurt. If that's what you want," and her tone, while gentle, says _we're going to talk about this later_.

"It is," he answers, promising her _I'll tell you everything_.

* * *

><p>The sound of the front door squeaking open rouses Kurt just as he's drifting off. The cable box glows brightly - it's half past eleven. They'd turned the lights off hours ago, the TV casting an eerie glow across the floor. Mercedes is fast asleep on his shoulder. He blinks slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. On the screen, Brian Johnson explains why he's in Saturday detention.<p>

Footsteps approach from behind, and Sebastian steps into his peripheral vision. Kurt glances up, puts a finger to his lips, and points to Mercedes.

Sebastian nods. His mouth is still curved upward, like he's been smiling recently, and Kurt's chest aches at the sight.

He's not sure what it is. Maybe the sight of Sebastian standing there so visibly happy, maybe the venting he'd done to Mercedes earlier in the evening - maybe his mind's just telling him to give up.

It would be so easy to give up now - to let go of these feelings for Sebastian and start anew. It's what he _should _do, but he can't - won't. Not yet.

Still, there's been far too much yelling around here lately, too much fighting. If it's not harsh words, it's dirty looks and tension. Just one night without all of that would be wonderful.

"Take the room," he says softly. "I'll stay up here."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. "Really?" He's looking down at him like he's expecting Kurt to make some catty comment about the date, and - god, he hates that Sebastian's come to expect that from him.

"Really," he answers, pressing his cheek against Mercedes' hair and closing his eyes. "I'm tired, Sebastian."

Luckily Sebastian doesn't argue, and he doesn't say anything about the date either. There's a rustle and a creak, and Kurt cracks an eye open to see Sebastian sinking down into the armchair against the wall.

Things are not fixed. Only a fool would say they are. They're not fixed, but they're peaceful. And that's enough for now.

Until, of course, it isn't.

* * *

><p>Much of the next day passes without incident. Mercedes heads back home around lunchtime, leaving Kurt to wish that he'd asked her to stay a bit longer. Burt and Carole are both at work, and they've got a reservation - just the two of them - at Breadstix tonight. Kurt busies himself with dishes, laundry, scrubbing the bathroom, really anything to keep him upstairs.<p>

It's strange how things have come to this - just a few months ago, he would have killed to be in this exact situation - living with Sebastian and preparing dinner with just each other as company. Now? He's half-tempted to go out to eat dinner by himself just to avoid being alone with Sebastian, but somehow he can't bring himself to leave, no matter how badly he wants to.

He can still hear Sebastian stacking books and movies on his bookshelf and moving his boxes around in their room. The house has always been cozy and comfortable - now it just seems stiflingly small.

"What's for dinner?"

Kurt jumps. "God - you scared me."

"That's what you get for spacing out."

Only Sebastian could pull off a verbal barb to the one responsible for his dinner. Kurt rolls his eyes. "I just made up a quick salad," he says, pushing carefully at the lettuce on his own plate. "There's more in the kitchen, but if you want something more substantial you're on your own."

"You really should eat more. I don't know how you can do the rabbit food thing everyday," Sebastian makes a face before taking a plate from the cupboard. "But it's fine. I wanted to talk to you anyway."

Talk? Kurt's stomach twists uncomfortably, but he stays silent until Sebastian sits down. "What about?"

"Well - first I've gotta know how pissed off you really are about the whole Blaine thing."

Kurt's jaw clenches at the name. Really? He can't tell? Still, like an idiot, he answers, "I'm not angry."

Sebastian gives him this look like he's seen straight through his lie. "Really now?"

"Truly," he answers. _Shut up shut up why do you keep talking?_

"So you won't mind if I tell you about how amazing last night was?"

"Go right ahead," Kurt replies, narrowing his eyes.

"Or how he laughed at all the right moments, how I made him blush like a schoolboy?"

Realization washes over Kurt, and he frowns heavily. So this is how they're going to do it? Sebastian's just going to brag until he's satisfied? He offers a frosty smile. "I'm sure it was lovely."

"It was. Not to mention - he's got probably the best ass I've seen in all of Ohio - and Paris," Sebastian says casually, as if he's talking about the weather.

"How lucky for you." He can do this. He's put up with Sebastian's bullshit before.

"With the way he sings, I bet he's a screamer in bed, and - "

"You mean you don't already have access to that knowledge?" Kurt cuts in rudely. "I'm surprised."

"Sadly no," Sebastian chuckles, and the jerk actually sounds amused at Kurt's tone. "Last night was pretty PG-13. What can I say, I'm a sucker for that clueless schoolboy thing - I don't even think he really considered the movie a date. But I'm gonna make my intentions clear - at dinner next week..."

He leans forward conspiratorially, an excited gleam in his eyes, "...I think I'll just lay one on him."

Imagining Sebastian kissing Blaine was one thing, but listening to him planning to actually do it? Completely different. Kurt's breathing shallows out, and he sees Sebastian's mouth moving but can't hear words. He feels sick, paralyzed with panic. And in one quick second, sound rushes back into his ears, and he blurts, "That's a horrible idea."

Sebastian pauses mid-sentence, glaring at Kurt. Before he can say anything, Kurt continues - the words a steady stream straight from his brain, and now that they're out he can't do anything to stop - "You don't even know if he likes you or if he's just humoring you."

Sebastian's eyes narrow. "Believe me, I can tell - "

He doesn't let him finish. "Maybe him not considering it a date is actually code for 'I'm not interested.'"

Sebastian's neck is flushed with - Kurt's not sure what, maybe anger, or embarrassment - and he slams his fork down onto the table. "Are you done yet?"

"And if he's as innocent as you say he is, I doubt that he'd be interested in someone like you, Sebastian."

"Just what the hell is that supposed - "

Kurt's tone is like acid as he cuts him off once again, "Trust me, a boy like him wants sweetness and romance, not used merchandise."

Everything stops.

Sebastian's mouth is set to a thin line, his expression carefully blank, but his hands are trembling. His chest rises and falls heavily as he takes in steadying breaths, staring at Kurt with his eyes narrowed. Suddenly Kurt's afraid of what he's about to hear.

The rational part of his mind knows that he was wrong to use those words - _used merchandise _sounds harsh even inside his head - but now, he's more terrified of Sebastian's response than anything else. There's barely any time to regret his words before Sebastian speaks again.

"I thought it was kind of cute at first, your crush on me," he says slowly, and Kurt bites his lip in dread. "It was flattering. I liked the attention - until I realized that you were nothing more than a giant pain in the ass."

"Don't," Kurt says weakly, and it's selfish and he knows it, but this only seems to fuel Sebastian's anger even more.

"No," he hisses. "You don't get to say shit like that if I don't get to hash it back. This situation we're in - this is all on you."

Kurt opens his mouth to protest, but Sebastian doesn't let him.

"Don't forget - you were the one who got our parents together. You were the one who got me and my mom to move in. All because you wanted to be with me - because _you_ were the one who wanted this _used merchandise_."

Each word is like a blow to Kurt's stomach, and he doesn't trust himself to keep steady - he grips the edge of the table, skin stretching white across his knuckles.

"I thought I'd humor you for a while - but enough's enough," Sebastian says tightly. "You think I need to learn when no means no? Then so do you, Kurt. I don't know what I have to do to get it through your head -_ I don't like you. _And now? I never will."

He barely registers Sebastian turning and walking away. Barely registers the bedroom door slamming shut. He's not sure how long he sits there at the dinner table, accompanied only by the sound of his own heart beating slower and slower until stopping completely and crumbling to dust.

_He didn't mean it_, a tiny delusional part of him whispers. _Just like you didn't mean it._

But he knows Sebastian, and he knows - he did mean it.

_Never_.

The word is heavy in his mind, even heavier in his chest and in his limbs.

He's alone in the house with someone who will _never _like him. The idea sinks to the bottom of his gut faster than a lead weight.

He needs to get out. Now. His movements are stilted and forced and he's still in his loungewear, but none of that matters. When he pulls out of the garage and onto the road, he starts to feel oddly numb on the outside - but inside, everything is on fire and frozen at the same time, as if all of his sensations, all of his emotions have detached themselves from his body.

Suddenly he realizes that he has no idea where he's going. He'd thrown himself blindly into the journey without first securing a destination -

_I don't like you. I never will._

And just like that, everything breaks. All of the pain, regret - everything that's been bottled up inside comes rushing out into the open, clawing at his throat and stinging at the backs of his eyes. He narrowly misses a merging sedan on his right side before abruptly pulling over. Only when he cuts the engine does he allow himself to lean forward against the wheel and cry. The tears provide a welcome release.

But still he doesn't feel any better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

**Rating:** PG13/T for now, will go up in later chapters

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>The shrill ringing of his phone jars him into consciousness, and blindly he reaches out to tap what he <em>thinks <em>is the accept button. "...Hello?"

"Kurt! Thank god." It's Burt. The worry in his tone stirs Kurt a little more awake. "You okay, kid? Where are you? We've been trying to reach you for hours."

Kurt blinks slowly to take in his surroundings. He's still sitting behind the wheel, parked at the curb on a vaguely familiar street. The streetlamp on the corner flickers, the sky dark. "I'm... okay. I think." Apart from how itchy and swollen his eyes feel. And the dull ache at the back of his head.

"Kurt?" another voice filters through the phone; Carole this time. "Sweetie, where are you? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No," Kurt says a little too loudly, then immediately winces when the dull ache transitions into a sharp pounding. He reaches up to massage his scalp, adding softly, "No, I'm okay. I just... I went for a drive last night and I guess I got tired and pulled over to sleep. I lost track of time."

"Do you need us to come get you?"

"No, no, I'm fine," He squints to read the street sign at the nearest intersection. "I'm on Baxter, so I'm not too far. I'll be home in a few minutes."

He hangs up the phone and flips down the visor to check his reflection in the mirror. His eyes look like hell, but there isn't much he can do about it until he gets home. He pulls back onto the road and takes a cleansing breath, cruising slowly. He should probably drive faster - who knows how long they've been sitting at home calling him; the dashboard tells him it's nearly 3:30 in the morning - but aside from his headache, he just feels numb inside, as if the guilt he would normally feel in this situation has been wiped clean away.

As soon as he crosses the threshold though, his father's scooping him into a bone-crushing hug, voicing his fears and worries until he's hoarse. Carole's right there beside him, petting at his hair and stroking the spot just behind his ear in a way eerily reminiscent of his mother, and he apologizes for making them worry. There's a tug just behind his heart, a spark of warmth, and for a second, this almost feels like family.

And then he sees Sebastian over Carole's shoulder, coolly leaning against the wall in the darkened living room, his expression carefully guarded. His eyes meet Kurt's for a moment, and then he turns and heads off in the direction of their room.

The sight of him walking away makes Kurt sick. Gently he pushes out of Burt and Carole's embrace and forces a smile. "Go to sleep, you two. I'm just going to make myself some tea and then I'll do the same."

"You sure?" Burt raises a scrutinizing eyebrow at him, and Kurt nods.

"We'll be upstairs if you need anything, okay?" Carole adds.

The only thing he needs is to be alone right now, but Kurt doesn't voice this. "Good night," he says instead, and as soon as they're gone, he pulls two tea sachets from the cupboard and puts them in a pot of water to boil.

He feels stiff, odd, like he's just going through the motions in a body that's not his. Is this what happens after crying to the point of exhaustion?

He almost feels a bit cheated. After breaking down in tears in his car last night, he'd felt what was probably every emotion known to man tear at his insides until all of his senses were left raw and tight and thoroughly abused. It's as if he should be feeling more right now, even just leftovers or remnants - really anything more than solid emptiness.

But as it is, that's all he feels. At least with the pain, he'd felt alive, human. With this? He feels - barely anything. Like he's just... existing.

He turns off the heat and removes the tea sachets from the water.

Maybe it just takes some more time. Maybe he's still in the denial phase of it all. Maybe all of the emotions will come back later on.

Or, Kurt thinks, stretching out on the couch and placing the cooled sachets over his eyes, maybe this is just what it feels like when one realizes -

Things cannot be fixed.

* * *

><p>"...up and leave, we've barely just moved in!"<p>

Kurt wakes to voices filtering in from the kitchen, speaking in barely-controlled hushed tones, as if they're trying to whisper but failing miserably.

"Does it really matter? Aunt Sylvia knows I'm visiting anyway - she'll just be expecting me in June this year, not July."

Carole, he recognizes as the first voice. And Sebastian. It sounds like a heavy discussion. He closes his eyes again and tries to even out his breathing to mimic sleep.

There's a long pause. "I had hoped that you would reconsider going this year."

Another pause. "Mom." He can't pick out a single emotion from Sebastian's tone - frustration, disbelief, anger - they're all there. "I can't do that. I - why would you ask me to do that?"

"School and volunteering at Lambda always keep you so busy. I thought that once school was out, the four of us could all spend some quality time together. You know, like - "

" - Don't say it, Mom."

"...Like a family," Carole finishes defiantly.

"But we're not a family," Sebastian says coldly. "He's not my brother." Kurt jolts a bit at being mentioned. "Burt's not my dad."

"You don't need to be related to be a family, son."

"Just because we live with them doesn't mean we have to be a family! We've been fine so far with just the two of us!"

"We _get by_," Carole responds heatedly. Then her voice softens, "People aren't meant to just get by. We're supposed to be surrounded by those we love - by those who love us. We're supposed to make each other whole. And maybe you haven't noticed it, but having Burt and Kurt in our lives does just that. This is a good thing for us, Sweetie - don't you see?"

"I kind of already had Aunt Sylvia buy my ticket."

There's another tense pause. "You - you what?" Carole hisses, and - suddenly fearing for Sebastian's life, Kurt chooses that moment to sit up and yawn, stretching his arms over his head.

"Kurt," Sebastian says, a little too loud and falsely cheerful. "You're awake."

"Oh, good morning," Carole greets, her smile tight. "Can I fix you something? Toast? Eggs?"

Kurt offers a genuine smile, and her features relax a bit, but not by much. "Just toast and some coffee. Thanks, Carole."

He sits down at the island, and Sebastian joins him after a beat. There's a brief squeeze of regret in his chest - apparently he and Sebastian can only be in the same space if there is a buffer between them. Carole deserves so much more than that.

And so does Sebastian.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he begins slowly. This probably isn't the best idea, but he plows through anyway. "But - um. You're going somewhere, Sebastian?"

Sebastian narrows his eyes a fraction. "Paris. I go every summer in July - I think I've told you - but this year I wanted to move the trip up. I'm leaving next week."

"I'm trying to convince him to stay and spend time with us," Carole says pointedly over her shoulder. "But he's being stubborn."

Sebastian rolls his eyes at this.

His chest tightens again. Paris. Must be lovely - Sebastian is very lucky to be able to visit.

Then again, perhaps it's Paris that's lucky to have Sebastian.

"No, I think you should go," he speaks finally, and Sebastian's got that look on his face again - as if Kurt's a puzzle to be figured out.

"Do you?" Carole asks, frowning. "Why so?"

"He's going there to visit family, right?" Kurt asks, glancing quickly at Sebastian. "And he obviously enjoys it there. I'm sure that's much more fascinating than staying here and watching my dad rotate tires."

Carole laughs, and even Sebastian's face softens at this.

"It's fun to be in a different environment for a while, even if it's a place you're already familiar with," he continues, and he can't stop the brief, sad smile that slips through. "I imagine that it rejuvenates you in some ways. Makes you feel alive again. I think some time away would be good for you."

He's not brave enough to look up quite yet, but he knows that Sebastian understands what he means.

_Because it'll be good for me as well._

* * *

><p>The days leading up to Sebastian's departure are predictably awkward. The boys are rarely in the same room simultaneously. Both parents are at work, so it's much easier for Kurt to be upstairs and Sebastian downstairs or vice-versa without raising questions. Going out during the day helps too, but honestly there isn't much for Kurt to do in Lima aside from window shopping, going to the music store, or watching hours upon hours of Millionaire Matchmaker at Mercedes'.<p>

Sometimes Sebastian goes out, just to change things up, and those are probably the days that Kurt is most grateful for. It's one thing to be by himself somewhere in public - but it's completely different when he's by himself at home. There's something calming about being in his own space. It allows for much clearer thought, which can be both good and bad.

But lately the only thing he's been able to think about are those horrible words from a few nights ago.

_Used merchandise._

Who the hell would say something like that?

_Apparently I would_, Kurt thinks glumly after a beat, _when I'm careless and not thinking properly._

He couldn't help it, just - Sebastian was going on and on about Blaine and he was sick of hearing about him and -

Abruptly he stops his train of thought to scold himself. No more excuses. He'd said those words; there's no taking them back now, no matter how badly he wants to. The most he can do is apologize. It should be simple. But every time he looks at Sebastian with the intent of saying "I'm sorry"... he can't do it.

Maybe it's the doubting, judging look on Sebastian's face, or the arrogant tilt to his head that says, 'even if you apologize, there's no way in hell I'll forgive you.' Or maybe it's just Kurt's own pride. He's only human after all, and the art of admitting wrongs is still nearly impossible to master.

The more he thinks about it though, the more those words hurt. He thinks of what it would be like if someone spoke that way to him - just picturing it in his head sends anger and humiliation running down his spine. If someone were to say that to him in reality, like Kurt had? He wouldn't have taken it as stalwartly as Sebastian had (but he's not going to think about precisely what Sebastian had said to him in response - that's another coil of hurt that he doesn't care to unleash right now).

He needs to take action, at least before Sebastian leaves.

And he comes close on several occasions. "I'm - "

Sebastian turns to him, a coolly inquisitive brow raised.

And every single time, he falls short, sinking back deflated.

"...Nevermind."

Maybe he just needs to wait it out a bit more. Steel his nerves, get over his hurt. Maybe he'll be braver next time.

* * *

><p>He even goes to the airport with Carole in hopes that the apology will come in those few precious moments he has left while Sebastian is still in the country, never mind how awkward an apology would be with Carole less than five feet away.<p>

He still can't say anything while they're loading the car trunk with Sebastian's luggage. He still can't say anything in the car.

Before he realizes it, they're standing outside the terminal, and Carole's hugging Sebastian tightly and giving him all of the typical mom reminders ("are you _sure _you have your passport?" "when your aunt picks you up, have her call me as soon as possible"). And then she steps back, and then it's just Kurt and just Sebastian, and suddenly it sinks in that this is his last chance to apologize before Sebastian disappears for two months.

He goes for it with an outline of an "I'm sorry" speech in his head - but then he catches Sebastian staring steadily back at him, collected and aloof and looking so effortlessly, painfully good, and all of the pretty words he had prepared fall apart.

He tries, god he tries but the apology never comes. "Take care," he manages instead, and he grimaces at how cold that sounds.

"Thanks," Sebastian answers stiffly. A long pause. "Well. I should go. Still got to get through security and all that."

"Right," Kurt shifts uncomfortably. "See you in August."

Sebastian nods and turns, and then Kurt's left standing on the sidewalk by himself.

If this were a movie, he would run inside crazed and determined and he would spot Sebastian just as he was about to pass through the metal detector. He would run to the front of the security line and scream his apology. Sebastian would turn back to him with a smile and scream back his forgiveness just as loud. They'd share this knowing look with a promise of 'I'll come back to you,' and then Sebastian would walk away, and Kurt would miss him but he would feel whole.

But this is not a movie. There are no theatrics, and apologies don't come as easily to Kurt as they do to leading men. Instead he gets back in the car with Carole, who's been steadily making her way through a thick pack of tissue, and offers to drive back home.

* * *

><p>It's not the lack of daily bickering. It's not the absence of that familiar rev of Sebastian's Mustang peeling onto the street. It's not the silence he hears at one in the morning instead of the music blaring from Sebastian's iPhone speakers.<p>

Those are too noticeable, too different. It's the small things that make Kurt sit up and pay attention.

There are times when he'll be watching classic movies and he'll mute the TV for a second just to see if he can hear someone moving boxes around downstairs. He'll brush his teeth in the morning and wonder why the Colgate tube isn't indented at the top and is instead rolled up from the bottom. His eyes will linger at the spot next to him at dinner, wondering why Carole hasn't pulled out a fourth table setting.

It seems ridiculous that the concept of _Sebastian gone for two months _would only settle in when he notices these things, but there's no controlling where his thoughts go. He'll see that little white contact lens case gone from the bathroom and he'll find himself thinking about Sebastian, no matter how hard he tries to push those thoughts to the back of his mind.

He can hardly remember what life was like before he met Sebastian. Somehow his prior fifteen years are so pale, insignificant. And now with this absence?

It hurts, not being able to see him. And it's only now that Kurt realizes how accustomed he's gotten to his company. They'd barely been living together for two weeks prior to his departure, but already Sebastian's presence in this house seems as natural as Burt or Kurt's. And now... he's gone.

Gone.

It sinks in, aching in his chest, and the knife clatters to the cutting board. He slides to the kitchen floor, abandoning his lunch preparation.

The stinging behind his eyes is too harsh to ignore, but he tries anyway and crushes his hand over his heart.

_I don't like you. I never will._

Those words clash violently with the idea of _gone, gone, gone _until his head spins, and - knowing that this is the final straw renders him frozen, useless. His feelings? His want? Might as well be dead.

This really is it.

He has to let go.

* * *

><p>It's not easy to get over someone who's spent the last several months at the forefront of your wants and wishes. Kurt learns this the hard way.<p>

It starts off somewhat like an intense cleaning ritual. He puts up a partition to avoid looking at Sebastian's half of the room. He turns up his music that much higher when his thoughts become too loud. He puts Sebastian's cologne away in the drawer so the sight of the bottle won't trigger him to remember the scent.

He surrounds himself with company, calling up Mercedes for regular shopping sessions and movie marathons. Rigo takes over the Mars group in Sebastian's absence, and he and Kurt make the trip down to Columbus every couple of days to go restaurant-hopping. It's not the healthiest habit, and Kurt has to circle around the neighborhood one more time on his morning walks to make up for the extra calories, but it keeps him busy. On Saturday night he even goes with Rachel to see the community theater production of _Bye Bye Birdie _- and while the casting choices are questionable, he discovers that his fellow glee clubber is surprisingly less abrasive when school's not in session.

It's progress. He barely thinks about Sebastian when he's got all of these distractions.

His good fortune only lasts about a week.

After that, he slowly starts to unravel without even realizing it.

His eyes will drift to that side of the room more often than not, staring at that partition, envisioning what's behind it. He'll end up tuning out his music no matter how high he turns the volume. Every time he's in the bathroom, his fingers will curl over that drawer, poised to open it but never following through.

He wakes up exhausted, and both Burt and Carole have done double-takes at him and asked him if he's alright. He pushes aside their concern - _of course _he's alright. The spacing out, the exhaustion, bottling everything up, every thought, every feeling, every want until his senses nearly start to decay - this is a normal part of the healing process. It just takes more time, more getting used to, and then it'll pass.

Exactly how long will it last? He wishes he had the answer.

* * *

><p>It takes two nights of insomnia before realizing that, alright, maybe this isn't so normal after all.<p>

But what else can he do? He's tried to shut Sebastian out to no avail. Is he supposed to do the opposite now? Bombardment, letting it all out? Dealing with this all by himself?

Allowing his feelings to reign again, leaving him to pieces on his bedroom floor?

On second thought, that just might work. It sounds insane, and it might backfire on him, but he's got nothing else. He obviously needs to approach this from a different angle. Maybe... maybe he first needs to completely give up control to his emotions before taking said control back. Maybe he just needs to sit there and give conscious thought to his feelings, not exactly letting all hell break loose, but just... laying his heart out there. Accepting. Coming to terms with how everything has turned out before trying to move on.

Thursday night arrives. After dinner, he takes the cologne out of that bathroom drawer, shifting the familiar weight of the circular bottle about in his hand. He remembers it so clearly, the fresh and clean scent teasing his nose, and he hasn't even issued a single spray. The memory accompanies him all the way downstairs.

His laptop sits on the coffee table, blasting out acoustic rock from Sebastian's Pandora station, and he stands in front of the black lacquered partition, trying to calm his irregular breath.

This divider is the only thing that's left. He goes right in - as he does for most things - and pushes the partition aside, inhaling sharply as he takes in the sight. It's just as he remembers it. Sebastian's minimalist night stand wedged in the corner. His tall shelf, occupied with enough movies and books to stock a small library. The set of hand weights lying at the foot of the full bed.

He settles down on the edge of the bed and lets his eyes sweep the area. This is Sebastian's space. Somehow being here, listening to his music with his bottle of cologne in hand - makes Kurt feel closer to Sebastian than he's ever been. He allows himself to think about their first meeting, their bickering, their conversations at Lambda and at the Lima Bean. He allows himself to contemplate exactly what it is he feels for Sebastian - and he still can't put a finger on it. It's not... love. That's not right. It's not quite that deep, but it's much more than a simple schoolboy crush. He doesn't know what to call it - but it's there.

It's there, and he's here, and for a few moments he just allows himself to _be_. This is his reality. This is how he feels - he accepts this. Sebastian doesn't feel the same - he accepts this too.

His head is a little muddled and his insides feel like they're shattering and melting and being rebuilt all at the same time. He can't explain it.

Instead he holds out the cologne bottle and sprays the air, allowing the scent to surround him like a warm embrace. He allows himself to pretend that it's Sebastian's embrace - just for a second. And then it's gone, the pretense quickly dispelling itself as he closes his eyes and smiles.

His heart is still heavy in his chest, but the weight isn't unbearable anymore. He can breathe.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he knows that everything is going to be alright.

* * *

><p>It gets a little easier with each passing day.<p>

His smile gradually becomes warmer.

He still looks at that side of the room, still thinks about the could-have-beens - but it feels more like curiosity now rather than want.

He spends his days with Mercedes or working at the garage, but it's more for avoiding boredom rather than wanting a distraction.

Sebastian's return draws closer and closer, and he wakes up every morning wondering if this is the day his mind lets him in on the joke - _hey, this whole thing is a ruse, you're not really over him _- and that insecurity terrifies him more than anything else. He's worked for this freedom, worked for the ability to say Sebastian's name without wincing, and if he really isn't over him...

Well. He tries not to think about that too much. The real test has yet to arrive, and no matter how firmly those doubts have taken root in the back of his mind, he'll face August seventh with a brave smile and every ounce of determination he can muster.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces). Just FYI, this is Kurt/Sebastian endgame, even if it might not seem like it right now.

**Rating:** PG13/T for now, will go up in later chapters

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p><strong>Smythe, Sebastian (3:11 PM):<strong> Just landed. Taxing right now, be out in a few  
><strong>Me (3:12 PM): <strong>We'll wait for you in the arrivals hall.

He isn't sure if those are anxious butterflies in his stomach or anticipatory butterflies. For a while now he's known the exact date of Sebastian's return - but he's never really thought anything of it until just a few minutes ago when they parked in the long-term lot. Now, standing among a small crowd of personal and impersonal greeters, it hits him like a sack of bricks - Sebastian is _coming home _and he's only just a few minutes away.

He excuses himself from Carole to walk around a bit, pretending to browse magazines at the bookstore just out of the line of sight of the arrivals. His nerves jump every time he spots someone getting pulled into a hug in the corner of his eye and he tries to think - why is he so worried about this again?

Whatever happened to that ironclad determination?

His eyes slide shut, and in that brief second he can hear Carole's voice say loud and clear over the din of rushed travelers, "Welcome home, sweetie."

Kurt turns around so quickly his eyes momentarily swim, and then he's looking at Sebastian and Carole locked in a warm embrace. Sebastian looks unfairly good for someone who's spent the day in a plane, his hair only a little flat and clothes barely wrinkled. He smiles tiredly, his face slightly more tanned than Kurt saw last, but he looks happy.

"I don't know why you're crying, Mom. You should be used to it, we do this every year."

"You're my son," Carole insists in a water voice, smiling all the same. "You'll understand when you have your own kids."

"I keep telling you, that's not gonna happen," Sebastian rolls his eyes, making a face like the very idea of children offends him.

Kurt indulges in the thought of Sebastian with a baby and can't help the giggle that escapes. It's priceless - Sebastian awkwardly holding an infant out at arm's length, grimacing at the spit-up on the baby's face.

Apparently his laughter is loud enough for Sebastian to hear, because before he knows it, those green eyes are locked on him, and Kurt know that this is the real test. He waits with bated breath as mother and son approach.

It seems like he waits an eternity even though it's only a short distance in reality, and when they stop in front of him, Kurt doesn't know what to expect - they hadn't exactly left on the best of terms after all.

But then Sebastian smiles, slow and real, and it's a good a start as any. "Hey."

The painful squeeze in his chest that he's come to associate with Sebastian is nowhere to be found. The maelstrom of emotions he'd felt two months ago has quieted. It's not complicated, not overwhelming like it was before - but it _is _warm. And familiar, and glad.

He smiles fondly. "Welcome back."

They venture to the baggage claim. As is her habit, Aunt Sylvia had insisted on sending Sebastian back with a care package, so while Carole excuses herself to fetch the car, Kurt and Sebastian stand at the mouth of the carousel on watch for a forest green bag.

They share a lengthy silence before Kurt realizes that something isn't right. This still feels somewhat off, and then he remembers.

He still needs to apologize. Hell, he needed to apologize two months ago - but better late than never, hopefully. He can't recall a single word from the speech he had in mind back then, but it doesn't matter. This apology - Sebastian, really, shouldn't have to wait anymore.

He steels his nerves. "I'm sorry." He's a little surprised at how easily it tumbles out. Why had it been so difficult at the start of summer?

Sebastian breaks his gaze away from the carousel for a second to shoot a strange look at Kurt. "For what?"

Kurt faces Sebastian and looks him directly in the eye. The last thing he needs is to look insincere - if he's going to apologize, he's going to do it right. "For what I said to you before you left. We had that argument?"

Sebastian's spine stiffens, and the flash of understanding in his eyes tells Kurt he knows exactly what argument he's referring to. "Oh."

"I shouldn't have called you that," Kurt continues, and though his pride still suffers a bit at having to do this, he can't deny that he feels much better getting it out there in the open. "It was insensitive and rude. I let my jealousy get the best of me, and I didn't think about how my words could have affected you."

He'd expected it to hurt more when he owned up to his jealousy. Incidentally he's more embarrassed than anything else. "I'm sorry."

Sebastian stands there blinking at him for a few seconds. "Apology accepted." Then he breaks into relieved laughter and shoves his hands in his pockets. "God, I'm so glad you're the one who started this conversation. I can only take so much awkward."

Kurt chuckles. "Apologies aren't exactly my forte, as you can tell."

"Me neither, but here goes," Sebastian shrugs. "I - " He stops abruptly. "See? Screwing up already." Then with a shake of his head, he continues. "I was too harsh on you. 'Never' is a strong word. So... me too. I'm sorry I -" Once again he cuts himself off, searching for the right words, but Kurt gets it. It's not the message that Sebastian regrets, it's the words he used. And damn if Kurt hasn't been there before.

"I know what you're trying to say," he answers, and he can't help throwing in a teasing, "Don't strain yourself."

They share a laugh, and then another beat of silence follows.

"So... we're okay?" Kurt asks, and when Sebastian nods, he doesn't stop the sigh of relief that escapes.

Sebastian gives him a reassuring smile, and his eyes linger on him in a way that makes Kurt raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "You seem different, Kurt."

He considers this. Thinks about the warmth in his chest and how content and familiar this is - just standing with each other in a shared space. Taking comfort in each other's existence, talking with Sebastian as easily as he talks with Mercedes or Rigo. Thinks about how much better he feels in his own skin, a feat that seemed impossible at the start of summer.

And so he shrugs, a half-smile curling his mouth. "I think I've just grown up a bit."

* * *

><p>"Did you really just ask for a shot of Courvoisier in your coffee?"<p>

Sebastian smirks at him, claiming a round table near the window just as a pair of girls step away from it. "Couldn't hurt to try. Over the summer I drank it like it was mother's milk."

Kurt stares incredulously at him for a moment before shaking his head and sitting down. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. How are your brain cells, then? Need I be worried?"

"I'm just as sharp now as when I left," Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Don't get all nagging on me, I already have a mother for that."

"Fine. Give me stories then," Kurt insists, absently rotating his cup between his fingers. "You've barely talked about your trip since you came back."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I mean, I've been going there since I was little, it's just a fun getaway for the summer. Hell, some of the guys at Dalton go to vacation at places like Morocco or Bali. It's just something we've gotten used to, you know?"

Is Sebastian really unaware of how lucky he is? Kurt can't help but poke fun at that. "I'm sure that such trips are normal to _you_, but remember that not everyone in the world is a privileged private school kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

"You call me that like it's a bad thing," Sebastian grins. "But seriously, give me some specifics. What exactly do you want to know?"

"Everything," Kurt answers, _accidentally _kicking Sebastian's shin under the table when he gives another exaggerated eyeroll. "The food, the shopping, the weather - it's another culture over there; things are bound to be different."

"The food beats Breadstix, that's for sure. Then again, most places do, so..." Sebastian wrinkles his nose in a laugh that's oddly endearing in a way, and Kurt finds himself smiling along.

"What about the sights? The people?"

"I haven't actually been to the Eiffel tower in years, if that's what you're asking. And the people - well, they're not all models, let's just put it that way."

"But for the most part they're attractive, right? The boys? I refuse to believe otherwise."

"Oh yeah, as long as you know where to look. In fact, I - "

While Sebastian answers, Kurt sips at his mocha and takes a moment to debate if he wants to indulge in a slice of cheesecake before ultimately deciding _no, there's no occasion for that_. Then he notices that Sebastian's stopped talking, and he looks back across the table, where Sebastian wears a conflicted expression.

"I'm sorry, the desserts were tempting me. What were you saying?"

"Nothing," Sebastian answers, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

Kurt narrows his eyes, backtracking to the past few exchanges in their conversation and why Sebastian looks so eager to change the topic and then he realizes - boys. He thought this would be a sour topic for Kurt.

Honestly, if this conversation were taking place right after their argument, Kurt probably _would _shy away, but right now he's legitimately curious. "You can talk to me about this, Sebastian. I won't get angry."

"You kind of called me a slut the last time we were on the subject of another guy. I think I'll pass."

Sebastian's tone is casual and not at all malicious but the reminder makes Kurt wince. He still hasn't forgiven himself for that caustic insult, even if Sebastian has. He's not proud of what he said, but at least he can admit now that he was wrong and not childishly insist that Sebastian started it. That's progress. "I'm really, really sorry about that by the way."

"I know, you've only told me so about a thousand times," Sebastian laughs, and Kurt feels some of the tension lift from his shoulders. "Anyway, I'm being honest when I say there's not much difference between the guys over there and the guys here. You have the hot ones, the not-so-hot ones, and the ones who are kinda homely but could totally become hot enough for at least a blowjob as long as you're plastered. Only difference is that they speak French."

Kurt's cheeks heat up at those words. "A 'cute, ugly, and plain' would have sufficed."

"But there's the fun in that?" Sebastian laughs again, a rich sound, and Kurt soon joins in despite himself.

He likes this - effortless, easy moments. It's so much nicer to talk with Sebastian this way; there's no fear that he'll somehow make a fool of himself while speaking, there are no pretenses or falsities - he can just be himself, and considering that he'd spent the previous school year trying to find out exactly who he was, it's the greatest gift he can ask for.

There are only two weeks left until Sebastian starts school again (three for Kurt), and those days pass in a similar fashion. By now, Sebastian's unpacked most of his things, and they've settled into something like a routine. Kurt and Sebastian still fight over the bathroom. Sometimes Sebastian's one AM iPod habits cause Kurt to wake up irritable and snippy. Sometimes Sebastian gets impatient and frustrated when Kurt takes too long in front of the closet doors deciding on an outfit.

But it's comfortable, cozy, and somehow it feels right.

They become accustomed to things as they are at present - it's convenient, and they don't have to deal with the messes of labels or taboo words like _family _to describe how they interact.

Until, of course, the last Monday of August. That's when everything starts to change.

* * *

><p>"I'm just saying, I don't know how you can do team sports, Seb. The last time I was in the guys' locker room, I actually gagged."<p>

"Aww, I'm sorry you can't handle the smell of determination and team work, Rigo," Sebastian says in a mocking tone, closing one eye as he focuses on the dartboard on the far wall.

"If by that you mean the smell of jock sweat and Axe, then yes, you're completely right," Rigo makes a face, holding his fingers up to his nose as if he can actually detect the offending odors at this very minute. "I'm sure it's no different at McKinley, right Kurt?"

What Rigo describes is all-too-familiar, and Kurt quickly averts his thoughts before he too gets hit by the memory of locker room stench. "...I change in the bathroom when I can."

"See!" Rigo exclaims, and Sebastian rolls his eyes as he throws the dart.

It hits the center, and Seth in the corner lets out a low whistle of approval. "Nice."

The Mars group meetings now are really more like scheduled hang-outs. Sometimes the odd person comes in for a week or two - and during those sessions, it's all business and they focus on the person in question. When it's just the five of them, it's a more laidback, relaxed atmosphere which they use to catch up, talk pop culture, and discuss politics thrown in with the occasional worry about what their sexualities mean in the world today. They know each other well enough that these worries have all been heard before, but rehashing them always helps in the way that "misery loves company" helps.

The meetings are fairly predictable.

But tonight, they hear a knock at the door, and it's not a troubled-looking youth. It's Burt and Carole, and they look about ready to burst from happiness.

"Kurt, Sebastian, got a minute?" Burt asks, and the boys exchange looks.

"It's nothing bad, we promise," Carole adds, beaming.

It's hardly reassuring, and there's a long stretch of silence before Jake breaks it.

"I guess that's our cue to leave," he says, getting to his feet and dusting off his shorts. "Come on, Seth." The two boys shuffle out with a courteous smile at the parents, and Rigo follows, but only after a quick gesture to Kurt telling him to call later with all the juicy details.

Even after the three boys leave, the room seems somehow too small for whatever their parents' news is. Kurt's stomach flutters a little, but he pushes the feeling aside and stands up to approach the couple. "So are you going to keep us in suspense, or..."

Sebastian puts down the remaining darts on the coffee table and stands beside Kurt, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, what's going on?"

Burt smiles warmly at Carole. "Come on, tell 'em."

"No, you - you tell them!"

"I thought we agreed - "

"We'll take it from either one of you at this point," Sebastian cuts in, raising an eyebrow. "You're making us nervous here."

Burt pulls Carole to his side in a half-hug and grins. "Okay, so you know how the shop usually stays open late on Mondays? Well, today I closed up early and drove here. Carole and I went into that meeting room a couple doors down where Kurt first introduced us - very romantic of me, I might add - and I - "

Carole cuts in, unable to contain her excitement. "He proposed - he _proposed_!"

Kurt's jaw drops in what he's sure is a very unattractive fashion and he shoots a glance at Sebastian, who looks equally stunned. Their parents - engaged? He almost can't believe it. A multitude of things run through his mind, but one word sticks out above all the others - _finally_. They've all been living together as an almost-family all summer; this is the next logical step. And seeing his dad's face lined with such utter happiness... Kurt hasn't seen that look since his mom was still alive.

"Let me see the ring!" He demands, holding his hand out expectantly, and - god, it takes his breath away. A four-diamond princess cut sits on a white gold band - it's simple, but absolutely perfect, and he voices the sentiment out loud.

"We wanted you two to be the first to know," Carole says, her grin positively infectious.

"Yeah, after that volunteer coordinator guy who happened to be in the room - come on, family hug!" There it is, that word, and Carole and his dad are pulling him in for a close embrace with Sebastian's weight pressed against his right shoulder and this - more than anything else really - feels like home.

Kurt enjoys the closeness for just a moment more and that's when it finally sinks in - a wedding. A _wedding_. His mind starts reeling with possibilities for flowers, invitations, venues, formal wear and dresses - this is the perfect project to start off the new school year. He pulls back from the hug, the ideas darting back and forth like stage lights. "Oh, this will be so much fun! I have a trunk full of wedding magazines for inspiration - I'm thinking a russet and cognac theme for - it's a fall wedding, right?"

He realizes around the same time Carole does that Sebastian still hasn't said anything - and his excitement peters off as he slowly turns to the other boy, somewhat apprehensive of what he might see.

Sebastian still looks stunned, though that quickly gives way to something like anxiety. "Wow, this... is a lot to take in. I'm just surprised, I guess."

Burt gives him a reassuring smile and pats his shoulder. "Don't worry too much, buddy. I know you just got done unpacking your stuff but I'm already looking for a new house - a bigger one, so you and Kurt don't have to share a room anymore."

Sebastian still doesn't look entirely convinced, so Carole takes her son's hands, squeezing them like they're a lifeline. "Come on, honey. Be happy for me. Please?"

There's a long pause, then Sebastian finally cracks a smile. It's slow and unsure, but it's a smile nonetheless, and that's better than nothing. "I am, Mom."

Then he turns to Kurt, that smile wavering a bit - as if to say that he _thinks _he's okay with this, but he's not absolutely sure, and Kurt can only give him a reassuring nudge in response. It's a good thing, he promises.

Their parents are good for each other. Completing their families - this is great.

Family. Carole is going to be his stepmother, and Sebastian will be -

Kurt abruptly stops that train of thought and becomes acutely grateful that the engagement's happening now, rather than three months ago.

Because Sebastian is his friend, mentor (in a way), a royal pain in the ass at times and former crush...

But taking precedence above all else now - he's his future _stepbrother_.

And well - so much for the absence of labels. Things have just gotten a bit more complex.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

**Rating:** Eventual NC-17

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>The first day back from summer vacation is always daunting. In addition to the regular concerns - is he going to pass his classes? Did his classmates drastically change over the summer? - he worries about exactly what kind of special treatment he'll get as McKinley's token gay kid. The good news is that the first day back is usually the only day they go all-out. The bad news is, he hasn't been caught yet - who knows what the jocks have got planned this year.<p>

On the first day of his freshman year, some of those varsity idiots thought it would be funny to shove his face down a toilet. He can still remember it - the cold, disgusting water rushing all around him, muddling his senses, the harsh echoing laughter the only thing he could make out. He remembers the sensation of drifting, drowning, someone reeling him in and out of that wretched toilet bowl like a pet in a cage.

His sophomore year was worse. First day, right before the late bell for fifth period - he'd rounded the corner just outside of the Foraker building - and a barrage of balloons pelted down on him, bursting open with warm, foul-smelling liquid. He'd shut his eyes and covered his mouth as soon as he recognized the odor - but there were too many of those guys and they'd hit everywhere - his hair, face, clothes, shoes. After a while they stopped, exchanged high-fives and taunted him with _enjoy your year, fag_, and he was left drenched and miserable. He remembers how humiliated he'd felt then, how he'd gone straight to the locker room, put the shower on full blast and stood under the spray fully clothed, determinedly convincing himself that the water running down his cheeks was _not _from his tear ducts.

So far he's been lucky today. Three periods have passed and nothing so far - then again, most of the guys who'd pulled that stunt last year were seniors. Kurt only hopes that the guys from the class above him are slightly more forgiving, though he's not foolish enough to think that he's completely off the hook. Instinctively, every time he hears particularly boisterous laughter or spots a letterman down the hall, he ducks within the crowd or hides behind a locker row until the goon passes.

And every single time, he laments the situation a little bit more - this kind of behavior shouldn't have to come naturally to him, yet here he is, biting his lip and waiting for the day to be over. By the time lunch rolls around, he's let his guard down considerably - but unfortunately that just leaves room to be followed around and heckled by the insufferable little Jewish fro creep with the disturbing Rachel Berry fixation.

He's not the only victim either - Jacob's been _interviewing_ several of Kurt's fellow glee clubbers with inappropriate questions and being completely obnoxious about the anti-glee club comments on his blog - and Kurt's patience is wearing thinner and thinner and he _cannot _deal with with this on top of dreading what the jocks will do today - and he just snaps.

"You know what? It doesn't take much courage for people to park their cottage cheese behinds at a computer and log onto the internet to start tearing people down," he all but snarls into the microphone, the camera zoomed in on his face, "But you know what does take courage? Standing up and singing about something. So I have one thing to say to the readers of your heinous blog: instead of leaving anonymous comments like a coward, next time say what you have to say to my face - "

Then there it is, an instant response thrown - quite literally - in his face.

The freezing, painful sting of ice and syrup hits him, pricking at his pores like sharp, interspersed needles of cold and _colder_ and numbing until his face is almost hot.

"Welcome back, lady!" Azimio jeers, and Karofsky follows up with booming laughter.

Kurt stands there for a minute, somehow both shocked and _not at all _shocked, his frustration and anger thoroughly dampened by the red mess dripping down his face.

"I don't suppose you could just cut out that last part?" he asks wryly when he's finally able to find his voice, and when Jacob responds in the negative, his remaining dignity instantly melts away, and he gives a final glare to the camera before stalking off to his locker to fetch his spare change of clothes.

He spends a good twenty minutes in the bathroom slipping into a clean outfit and running his stained shirt under the cold water. Is this it? Does this conclude the day's torment? Or is it just the beginning - god, he hopes not. In fact, he's tempted to just up and leave now while everyone's at lunch. There are only two periods left anyway, trig and English, and he can afford to skip the first day of those.

He shuts off the water and leans over the sink, deep in thought. He could leave now...

No - he won't run. Not today.

He sighs heavily, letting the tension escape his shoulders, and turns the water back on.

He won't run today. But god, he's tired of this. Three months of summer vacation per year isn't enough to take the sting off of the insults, the slushies, the constant threat of being beaten up just because of who he is. He wonders what it would be like if he were elsewhere.

Sebastian always says Dalton is like another culture. He's out and accepted there - and actually popular, unless he's lying.

The thought makes Kurt a little envious.

Must be nice.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, he makes it through the rest of the day unscathed, and when he rushes to his car after school and finds no harm done to her either, he collapses against the driver's side and sighs in relief.<p>

Of course, there's no guarantee that the meatheads aren't out here somewhere waiting to give him a dumpster toss, so he doesn't linger and immediately sets off to get as far away from the school as possible.

He stops by the drug store and the grocery to stock up on some essentials and run other miscellaneous errands, and it's close to five o'clock by the time he gets home. Sebastian's car is already parked against the curb.

His future stepbrother - _god, that still sounds strange _- sits at the island, a thick textbook cracked open in front of him and a notebook on his right side.

"I thought you'd still be at Dalton doing your training or whatever," Kurt says, setting the bags down on the counter.

Sebastian laughs. "You mean pre-season conditioning?"

"Yes, that," he answers defensively, stowing away various items in the fridge. "God, does it really matter what it's called?"

"Not really, it's just funny how un-sportsmanly you are." Sebastian looks up and frowns when he takes in Kurt's oatmeal-colored sweater. "Weren't you wearing a shirt and tie this morning?"

Kurt casts a glance down at the bag containing this morning's clothes, or what he was able to salvage at least. The shirt might need to be bleached. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Kurt," Sebastian starts, and Kurt hates that tone. It's the 'I know you're not telling me the whole story so just 'fess up before I pry it out of you' tone he uses in some of the Mars group meetings.

It's a double-edged sword. Sebastian definitely has a leader's capabilities and charisma, but he's often far too pushy. It's all with good intention - better out than in, Sebastian always says, but sometimes, like when the drop-ins to the meetings are brought nearly to tears because of what Sebastian's had them admit... Kurt's not too sure if that's the best way to look at it. Right now it's not, at least.

He raises an eyebrow, returning Sebastian's piercing stare with equal fervor. Definitely not now.

"Don't you have studying to do?" He finally breaks the silence, gesturing to Sebastian's book. "You should be focusing on that, not my public school troubles."

"So you did have troubles today. Explain."

Kurt groans and finishes putting the last of the groceries away before taking his stained clothing to the laundry room. The footsteps behind him indicate that Sebastian's following him, and _god why isn't he letting this go?_

"I don't want to talk about it because it's not a big deal," he insists, loading up the washer with the whites. He throws his shirt in there too. "Really, it's okay."

That's about half-true. It definitely could have been worse. Today was a cakewalk in comparison to freshman and sophomore years as far as first days go.

He just honest to god doesn't feel like discussing this, not after being on edge all day. He's tired.

But Sebastian leans against the doorway, stubborn as ever.

And Kurt sighs. "Really, let's not make this more dramatic than it needs to be. I've been getting slushied since freshman year. I'm used to it."

"That's the point," Sebastian narrows his eyes. "No one should have to get used to that."

"It's a different culture over there," Kurt says after a moment, echoing Sebastian's oft-spoken words back to him. "It's less quid pro quo and more survival of the fittest."

"Hm," Sebastian responds. "So where does that put you on the food chain? Are you the predator or the prey?"

He looks up to meet Sebastian's eyes. They're firm, bold, bright. Almost_ bossy_. The day's tension slowly dissipates at that look, and - oh, that's right.

If being pushy is Sebastian's method for catharsis, then challenging people is his way of cheering them up. It doesn't always work - for most people it's in fact a gateway to more anger - but Kurt Hummel isn't like most people.

He actually finds the effort sweet, in a way.

"None of the above," Kurt answers after a long pause. He laughs a bit, smiling. "I suppose that makes me the sun."

* * *

><p>"How's the planning going?"<p>

Kurt looks up to see Sebastian approaching from the foot of the stairs. The coffee table's littered with checklists, spreadsheets of price comparisons, and flyers from various businesses ranging from florists and caterers to photographers and limo services. His laptop browser's open to about eight tabs of invitation designers.

"You look... busy," Sebastian adds, raising an eyebrow, and Kurt laughs.

"Well, I've booked the venue for November 20th. That's always the hardest part, so I like to think of that as progress."

"I still don't know why we all can't just head down to Kewpee for a post-civil ceremony burgerthon and call it a day."

Kurt shoots him a dirty look. "First off, that's disgusting. Second off, that's nowhere near good enough for our parents. Besides, I thought you liked big parties."

"House parties, not weddings," Sebastian answers pointedly, sinking down onto the couch next to Kurt. "I can get smashed and hook up with randoms at house parties."

"Who says you can't do that at weddings too?" He regrets the words as soon as they escape his mouth, and he abruptly turns to stare at the windows on his computer, valiantly fighting off the heat rising to his face.

"Saucy," Sebastian grins lewdly. "You have a confession you'd like to share with the class?"

"Of course not," Kurt mutters, scrolling over several sample photographs on his laptop. He'll have to take a better look at them later - right now he's only feigning distraction to avoid looking Sebastian in the eye, and he probably knows it. "You know I've never - "

"Never messed around with a guy before? Yeah, I know. And I'm not sure why, it's not like you're short on selection at your school. That freakishly tall football player I saw once was kinda cute."

"That's Finn Hudson. Pretty house, but no one's home. And he plays for team straight." Kurt pauses, wondering if he's gone too far with that last bit. He did use that in a previous argument with Sebastian, after all. "Was there a reason you came down here?"

"Yeah, actually. Mom said to get ready. When your dad gets home from work, we're gonna go check out the new house."

"They picked one out already?"

Sebastian shrugs. "They're looking at a place near St. Rita's. It's closer to the tire shop, too. But I don't know if they've signed anything yet."

"Still in McKinley's district?" he asks a bit warily.

"I dunno. Probably."

Oh," Kurt frowns, debating if a change of district would have been a good thing or not. A new school wouldn't have Mercedes or Rachel or any of the glee clubbers, but it also wouldn't have Karofsky.

On the other hand, it could potentially have someone ten times worse than Karofsky, and well - better to be stuck in the hell he's familiar with than the one he isn't.

Then they both hear the creak of the garage door opening upstairs. Kurt stands slowly, ignoring the sudden rush of anxiety fluttering in his stomach. "I guess that's my cue."

* * *

><p>The house is like a blank canvas - it's spacious and clean and open to all sorts of possibilities. There are some minor issues - that linoleum in the upstairs bathroom has <em>got <em>to go, same thing with the hideous chartreuse wall paint in the bedrooms, but other than that, it's definitely doable.

It's a little... cold, empty because there's no furniture, no photographs. It's still impersonal.

There are no memories attached here like there are at the old house. He didn't learn how to ride a bike on this street. There were no tea parties with his dad in this yard. He can't hear his six-year-old self practicing Für Elise on the piano in the formal living room. There are no red stains on the wall from when he drew a flower with his mother's lipstick.

No, this house doesn't have any of that. It's nice and it's in a good neighborhood - but he didn't grow up here. It's not _home_.

The real estate agent steps back into the foyer to take a phone call, and Burt claps Kurt on the shoulder. "So what'ya think, kid?"

His dad looks so thoroughly sold on this house, and Kurt feels a little guilty for dismissing the place for a little nostalgia. "It's nice, Dad. I think... this would be a good fresh start for us."

Burt grins. "Great. Carole's talking to Sebastian, too - and if we're all on the same page, then we're gonna go ahead and put an offer in."

He probably shouldn't be as startled as he is by the mention of Carole and Sebastian. They're part of the family too now - they're equally involved with the decision-making.

And... honestly he hasn't really thought it like that. He's been so preoccupied with the whole _wedding_ aspect of things that he hasn't really let himself think about the _marriage _of it all. He's thought about the titles and labels that are going to change rather than what those titles and labels entail.

It sinks in as he walks back upstairs to his potential bedroom, pointedly not listening to the mother-son conversation going on down the hall.

They've all tried the living together thing, and that worked out fine - but how will things change once marriage gets thrown in the mix? Carole isn't just his dad's girlfriend anymore - she'll be the closest thing he has to a mother. Will he cook and talk and bond with her just as he did with his birth mother? Will she have just as much power as Burt does for the whole parenting thing?

And Sebastian - he's not just his friend and roommate anymore, he'll be his stepbrother. Will he be obligated to go to his lacrosse games and Warblers performances now? What _exactly _does it mean to be a brother to someone?

What does it mean to change his family definition from two to four?

He thinks about it, thinks about his dad and what he'd said earlier - _we're all on the same page _- and hell, maybe these changes have been slipping by without Kurt even noticing.

Like last week, when he'd asked Burt if they could invest in a stand mixer - Burt had paused and asked if it was something Carole could find use for as well.

Kurt didn't think much of it at the time and replied that of course she would use it (it's a baker's best friend after all) - but it's only now that he understands what Burt meant.

Would she find a way to use it - because it would be her investment too, not just Burt's.

The weight of this realization makes Kurt a little dizzy.

What else has he been missing - better yet, what other signs is he supposed to look for? Or what difficulties can he expect?

As it is, there are too many questions, too many uncertainties. He's told himself over and over - this is a good thing. As long as Burt and Carole are happy, nothing else matters. Everything will work itself out no problem.

At least, until he remembers the spring. His confidence quakes when he recalls how jealous he'd been of Sebastian spending time with his father. If something as minimal as that had caused friction, he can only imagine what else might happen - _will_happen, knowing his luck.

"You look like you're hurting yourself by doing all that thinking."

A teasing voice jars him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see Sebastian leaning against the doorway. "Don't project your shortcomings onto me," he quips back with an eye roll, turning back around.

"What's up?" Sebastian joins him at the window, fingers swiping up a faint trail of dust from the sill. "I mean, I'm sure that your view of the neighbor's tree here is great, but to stare at it for like, ten minutes? Kinda creepy."

"No creepier than you watching me for those ten minutes," Kurt says dryly. "And I can't help it. The parents getting hitched, moving into a new house - it's a lot to take in."

"I thought you were happy about it."

"I was. I am," he amends quickly.

"There's a 'but' in there somewhere..."

Kurt pauses for a long moment before speaking. "But nothing."

"If it's nothing, then you shouldn't have a problem telling me."

Something about speaking about his hesitations - at least when it comes to this - sets him on edge. As comfortable as he with Sebastian, Kurt's just not quite _there _with him yet. Maybe in another year or so, when they're all settled in the new house and calling each other by those shiny new labels. Perhaps he'll be more comfortable - and hopefully by then, all of these worries will vanish, and there'll be nothing to discuss in the first place. "It's stupid."

"That's what you say about everything you don't feel like telling me," Sebastian says, and Kurt takes a moment to lament how convenient it is that of all things, Sebastian remembers that particular detail about him. "Try another excuse."

Kurt knows he's being a little ridiculous - Sebastian's going through the exact same situation, so it's not like he's the only one facing these issues. That thought makes him feel marginally better. "I don't know what it's like to have a sibling," he says eventually. "And I've almost forgotten what it's like to have a mother. I just don't know what to expect, that's all."

Sebastian frowns, giving this some thought. "Does it have to be that complicated? Who says things are gonna change?"

"Just think about it - two adults from completely different walks of life get married, each bringing a teenage boy. It's sort of a recipe for conflict, if you ask me."

"Yeah, but how weird can things get? We've all been living together already - the only thing I can see changing around here is the labels we use."

"That's what I thought too, but - " Kurt cuts himself off with a frown, wondering how to word this properly. "My dad's already taken on this... 'we' and 'us' attitude."

Sebastian looks skeptical. "Sorry, you lost me with that one."

Kurt gives a dry laugh, turning to lean back against the wall. "It's hard to explain. Let's see - in the past, when I would talk to my dad about certain things, he'd only take the two of us into consideration. But now he thinks about all four of us."

"Doesn't that come with the territory of living together?"

Kurt shakes his head. "It's different. My dad and your mom were independent of each other even when we were living together in the summer. It's a different type of independence now - as in, they operate as a unit rather than two separate people. And they talk about you and me like we're part of that unit, like - "

"Like an 'us' attitude," Sebastian finishes, and Kurt nods. "Well, is that bad?"

"I don't know," Kurt admits with a resigned sigh. "I wish I did."

* * *

><p>"Don't forget - Friday night dinner is six instead of seven tonight. Carole's gotta work the night shift."<p>

Six...? Kurt grimaces. "Sorry, I can't do tonight. Singalong Sound of Music at the Old Royal Theater - it's a once a year event."

"Kurt, those Friday night dinners are like a ritual - we've been doing this for, what? Going on four months? And we did it all the time when your mom was still around. You can't just stop now," Burt turns to face him, a stern expression crossing his features.

As it turns out, that 'we/us' attitude tends to surface at the most inconvenient times. Truthfully, Kurt still struggles to accept the 'us' reality - he'd like to hold on to _Burt and Kurt _for just a little while longer. "Why are you making me feel guilty about this? I'm a teenager, Friday nights are kind of important to me. And besides, there'll be plenty more opportunities for Friday night dinners."

"This is more than important Kurt, it's sacred," Burt responds, his face softening a bit. "And the point of having something sacred is that it takes priority over anything else you've got going on."

Kurt frowns. "But Singalong Sound of Music is sacred to me."

"You think I don't know that? Wasn't I the one who bought you that Maria bonnet when you were six?" His dad's tone raises a fraction, and Kurt sighs, trying not to let his irritation seep through. It's a futile effort. "Look, if we don't keep doing our Friday night dinners, our lives'll just pass right by each other, and that ain't exactly the best start for a mixed family."

There's that attitude again - _ours_ and we and us - and while it's great that Burt's embracing this situation right away, Kurt's still having a bit of a time just accepting it. Friday night dinners had been Kurt's and Dad's and Mom's thing, and _that _was sacred. Friday night dinners with Carole and Sebastian - he hadn't realized that there was already a ritual attached to those.

And now they aren't just Friday night dinners with Carole and Sebastian anymore, they're dinners with his new family - and is it a crime for Kurt to want to preserve the memory of his old family's Friday nights? He just can't think of those nights in the context of _the four of them_ when he's spent his life thinking it about in terms of _the three of them _- and then stopped treating it as a tradition once his mom died. It doesn't seem right to remember her like this.

"Sorry Dad, but I just don't see why I should have to miss out on something I've been looking forward to for just another dinner." It sounds harsh and callous, and Kurt starts to leave before he can say anything he might regret. "Maybe we can do it Thursday or something."

"I gotta tell you Kurt," Burt says, stopping Kurt in his tracks, "I'm real disappointed in you."

The words settle in Kurt's stomach like a two-ton weight, because it's his dad's disappointment - not his sadness, not his anger - that makes Kurt feel like the absolute lowest. But he stands by what he said. Friday nights don't belong to Carole and Sebastian. Not yet.

As he heads off to school, something that feels like remorse blooms just beneath the weight of that disappointment, and Kurt doesn't understand what it means. Vaguely he thinks it might just be unease at how their conversation had ended with the words Kurt hated hearing most - but then he figures, he'll be able to somehow make it up to his dad later.

But he can't.

Not when he's sitting in French class insulting Azimio and Mr. Schue comes to the door to tell him that Burt collapsed at the garage.

Not when he's on the road to the hospital, the back of his eyes burning, his nerves frozen.

Not when he's in that cold room waiting for what seems like hours for any news.

Not now. And - his throat goes arid at the thought - maybe not ever.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: http : / / glee-kink-meme .livejournal. com / 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

**Rating:** Eventual NC-17

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>For a few moments, he's not at the hospital.<p>

He's sitting in the backyard at his little plastic table, his outfit picked out perfectly for the occasion. He hands his dad a little play-doh cupcake ("Grape frosting, it's delicious!" he insists, smiling.) And his dad makes that face like he's not really sure what to make of the situation, but he goes along with it anyway.

His dad doesn't know how to properly drink from the teacup, so he teaches him. Pinky out, small sips. No slurping or smacking. Set the teacup down on the saucer as quietly as possible. It's important for a gentleman to have good manners. Burt gives him a hesitant smile, and then he looks at the tipped-over bike like he'd rather be going for round two of teaching Kurt how to ride rather than sitting here learning about tea etiquette.

"Dad," Kurt says, holding out a blue triangle. "I'll try again. But you have to finish my scone first. It's blueberry."

Burt chuckles at that, and he pretends to bite the triangle. "It's good. But how come you didn't get your mom to do this with you?"

"Oh, Mom already knows all about tea parties. She loves them," Kurt answers, using his hand to brush back a lock of hair. "But today's our day, Dad. Just the two of us."

His dad smiles, and then in the blink of an eye, he's back at the hospital. The doctor says something about a coma. That they're not sure when he's going to wake up. If he'll wake up.

Kurt's throat is tight, and he's almost too afraid to move. But he steps forward anyway, thinking that his dad looks so out of place here in the hospital with the sterile walls and the blue curtains and the smell of antiseptic. He was fine this morning, comfortable in his coveralls and looking like he was right at home in the garage. That's how Burt Hummel should look.

Not like this.

He slots his hand against his dad's, noting with some relief that it's still warm. But that relief isn't nearly enough when he realizes that the fingers don't automatically curl back around his the way they did when he was young.

"Dad?" His voice is quiet, meek, as if the machine will flatline if he speaks any louder. "Dad, I'm here. Right here, holding your hand."

No response.

He tries again. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Again no response. He only squeezes tighter. "Come on, Dad. Just squeeze my hand."

_Show me you're okay. You're okay, you're okay._

But when he has to grab onto the bed rail with his free hand to steady himself, he's not sure who he's trying to convince anymore.

* * *

><p>As the week passes and his dad's condition stays the same, optimism becomes difficult. He ignores his homework for the most part, choosing instead to go to the hospital right after school, as if the more time he spends with his father, the better chance he has of waking up.<p>

Or maybe he just spends so much time there to make sure that he won't die.

Either way, he can't find it in himself to focus on other things right now. Distraction works for some - not for Kurt. Not usually, anyway. The only time he's not worrying about his dad in the hospital is when he wakes up in the morning, his brain still sleep-addled - but when he heads upstairs and sees that olive green baseball cap sitting on the kitchen counter, it's a sharp reminder of exactly why he didn't fall asleep until close to 2 AM last night, and the cycle repeats of _school, hospital, home_.

And when religion becomes an issue in glee club after Finn's sudden and rather contrived interest in Jesus Christ, the _last _thing he wants to do is explain why he doesn't believe in the flying spaghetti monster.

Why bother?

Why waste his time doing the adult equivalent of wishing on stars just to see his dad still comatose? Why get his hopes up for something that will obviously yield no results? They can be angry with him all they want for not believing - it's not his fault they've decided to board the crazy train. Thoughts are welcome, but prayers? Not so much.

God, Jesus - who cares? There are far more important - _real _- things to worry about.

* * *

><p>It's not a pleasant thought, but he would be lying if he said it never crossed his mind. The scenario repeats itself now more often than he'd like due to the whole coma situation.<p>

He pictures himself dressed head to toe in black, walking slowly through a cemetery. The weather... rainy (there's a flair for the dramatic even in his imagination). When he finds the stones bearing his parents' names, laid in the ground side by side, he crouches down and lays his hands on the grass growing on their graves, and he sings. It's not a song he can easily pick out - just a solemn, quiet little melody, almost like a lullaby, and if he closes his eyes and pretends that the grass under his fingers are their shoulders, it's like the three of them are together again.

People always say _they're in a better place_ or _at least now they're together_ but Kurt knows that's not true - they just say that to soften the blow of _hey, you're an orphan now_. And there are times when he pretends to believe it - burying both parents before his 18th birthday hasn't been easy, after all. Sometimes he needs to hide behind the convenience of lies.

Where would he live now? With Aunt Mildred, maybe. Or with his grandma in Indiana. Maybe he'd even be allowed to stay with Carole and Sebastian if the state of Ohio was feeling kind.

It takes a good violent head shake to remember that his dad is in fact still alive, and he doesn't have to deal with messy things like dead parents and loneliness and new living arrangements, not yet at least. And that's good; dwelling on those morbid cemetery thoughts usually leave him feeling either entirely helpless or sick to his stomach, neither of which are helpful for his daily hospital visits.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Mercedes, Quinn, and Rachel in his dad's room. Rachel's singing a number from Yentl, and though he wants to compliment her as-usual stellar voice, that want is heavily overpowered by something that feels vaguely like disgust and personal offense.

"What's going on?"

Rachel turns sharply, Quinn's thumbing over her cross necklace and Mercedes' hands are clasped in front of her face - it's obvious what's happening, but he doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to believe that they'd pull a stunt like this. Didn't he explicitly say that he didn't believe in God, that he didn't want their useless prayers?

"We were just praying for your dad, Kurt," Mercedes answers softly. "We're from different denominations and different religions, so we figure one of us has to be right."

This has to be the most backhanded type of well-wishing in existence. They don't think his dad can pull out of this just by his own will to live? They want to instead place their hopes on some higher being, one who - if he even exists - is kind of a jerk for putting his dad in that hospital bed in the first place? That's not right at all. Might as well just deem him a goner and get it over with.

"I think you all should leave."

"Kurt," Rachel begins, but he doesn't let her finish.

"Please! Just go," he snaps.

The girls give him various looks as they pass, ranging from apologetic to sympathetic to upset - wait, why are _they _upset? They're not the ones who had to put up with this crap.

"I saw that. Someone's got their claws out today, I'm still shocked they haven't put you on a Bravo show yet."

"Nice, Sebastian," he says, shooting the other teenager a dirty look as he enters the room. "It's not like the guy who was almost your stepdad is in a coma or anything."

"Easy, I'm just trying to keep things light." Sebastian sets down a small white potted cyclamen plant on Burt's nightstand. Then he pauses. "'_Was _almost?' Jesus, you're talking like he's dead already."

"Sometimes I feel like it would be easier if he were," Kurt admits, leaning back and flattening his palms against the wall. He hates himself for thinking that way, but... at least he wouldn't have to deal with the constant flood of 'will he or won't he survive' questions.

Sebastian snorts. "So much for that Hummel determination. I'm disappointed in you."

And god, that hurts. There's no way Sebastian knows that those were his dad's last words, so it's not like he's doing it on purpose, but still - Kurt opens his mouth to tell him off, but the words are frozen in his throat.

His vision starts to blur, and it's not until the first tear drips onto his scarf that he realizes he's crying.

"I - shit, Kurt, I didn't mean it like that. Stop," he hears Sebastian say distantly, even feels an awkward hand on his shoulder, but none of that matters.

Not when he'd been such a jerk to his dad just before the incident - not when his dad's last memory of him was colored with disappointment.

How is he supposed to live with the knowledge that he never got to put his best face forward before his dad slipped into a coma? His chest squeezes with an all-too-familiar regret - only this time, he's not sure if it'll go away.

It seems like ages pass before he wipes his still-stinging eyes and ignores the fuzziness in his head long enough to look around. At some point during his fit, he'd slid to a pile on the floor. Sebastian's sitting on the chair next to him, and the monitor hooked up to his dad still gives off that same beat.

"My mom clocked in about an hour ago," Sebastian says carefully, slowly shifting his gaze from Burt on the bed to Kurt. "She's on this floor."

Kurt doesn't trust his voice enough to speak, so he merely nods.

"She'll be able to keep constant watch on him. So," Sebastian stretches out the last word, "I think you could use a little break."

Kurt frowns. "Like what?"

Sebastian grins mischievously and holds out a small card for Kurt to take.

It's a Hawaii driver's license of a man with atrociously dirty hair, someone named Chazz Donaldsworth - and a combination of realization and dread quickly washes over Kurt. "Oh, Sebastian - you'd better not be thinking - "

"We're gonna take a little trip down to Celina," Sebastian interrupts him, and he grabs Kurt's hand to pull him out of the room before he can say anything else in protest.

* * *

><p>"I still don't understand why you brought me here," Kurt mutters crossly, all but slamming his ammo box down into the lane console.<p>

"What's that?" Sebastian shouts over the sound of bullets firing and tearing into paper. He's still wearing that stupid grin on his face as he loads up his pistol. What on earth possessed Sebastian to think that this would be a good idea? Kurt never gave him any indication that he'd rather be here potentially shooting his foot off rather than sitting vigil at his dad's bedside.

"This is a waste of time, why are we here?" Kurt says louder, watching as Sebastian clicks the magazine into place and pulls the slide back. He aims down lane, focusing on the target - about 15 yards away - and presses down. The bullet fires, tearing neatly into the target's neck.

Kurt flinches, unconsciously rubbing the same spot on his own neck.

"Just try it out," Sebastian answers, and again he pulls the trigger, this time burning a tiny hole into the target's head. "This is where I go to blow off some steam when I'm pissed about something. Maybe it'll work for you too."

"I'm just worried about my dad, I'm not angry."

"Really? Cause it sure didn't look that way when you snapped at your friends in that hospital room."

Kurt's jaw tightens. "What, are you siding with them now?"

"I never said that. I'm just saying you look like you need a distraction."

"Distraction _doesn't work_," he grits out.

"Yeah?" Sebastian pauses and looks down at Kurt's hands.

When he follows his gaze, he realizes that he's already packed four rounds into the magazine and holds a fifth in his hand. "Not. A word."

Sebastian smirks at him again and turns his focus back down lane. "Just imagine you're a Bond girl. Or guy, whatever."

Kurt frowns. "...If it's Daniel Craig's Bond then you can forget it."

That earns a deep laugh from Sebastian. "Course not. I always figured you for a Brosnan Bond anyway."

It's kind of strange, maybe kind of wrong having a conversation as ridiculous as this while his dad is in that hospital bed clinging to life - so he clears his throat to sober himself up and says nothing more. As soon as he takes the first shot, he understands what Sebastian means about this as stress relief. The raw power, the recoil of the pistol in his hand - it's almost like the tension in his body instantly melts away. Almost.

He doesn't have to give Sebastian that satisfaction of being right, of course. "Sports, fishing, gun ranges - I swear you and my dad are into the strangest things."

Just like that, another memory hits, and he falters before taking another shot.

He remembers walking through a cemetery, his dad in a black suit - one of the few times he's ever seen him dressed up - and he eagerly steps forward, taking his dad's hand.

His mom's grave is in the middle of several other plots, it takes a few minutes to find her - but when they do, they just stand there gripping hands so tight, like a reminder that at least they still have each other.

_Shot_.

"For the record, I agree with you," Sebastian interrupts his train of thought. "About the whole prayer thing."

_Shot_.

"What gave them the right, you know? It's like they deliberately went behind your back because you're not a believer."

Sebastian's words start to sound a little off in Kurt's head, and an uneasy feeling settles at the bottom of his stomach.

_Two shots_.

"Like praying from different religions is going to help either. If there is a god I'm pretty sure it's the same one across the board. And they have to pray to him instead of hoping your dad wakes up on his own?"

Kurt had made this argument earlier, but he can't help feeling defensive on his friends' behalf this time around... Maybe he did overreact earlier.

_Shot_.

"Kind of a dick move, if you ask me. Especially since he's probably not gonna wake up anyway."

He slams the pistol down onto the console. "Look, I'm pretty sure they were just trying to help. And who do you think you are, trying to write off Dad like that - he's not dead until that monitor goes flat and his body is good and cold."

Sebastian sets his gun down too and gives Kurt a pointed look. "You don't say."

Kurt glares right back, right into those eyes that are all at once sharp, challenging, and smug, and it takes about ten seconds and Sebastian's smirk to resurface before Kurt realizes what he's said - rather, what Sebastian's made him say through his newest rendition of strange and backwards psychological mind games. "...You're an asshole."

"Thanks for the compliment," Sebastian chuckles. "And yes I am. An effective, truth-seeking asshole. But you said it, didn't you?"

What, that he realizes just how harsh he'd been with his friends? And how his dad's situation really isn't hopeless, that he's merely being pessimistic? Trust Sebastian to push the limit of what should and shouldn't be said. It's simultaneously one of his best and worst qualities.

"I mean, you've kinda been moping around all week - and I get it, believe me. It's hard thinking that you're gonna lose a parent. God knows I've wondered what it would be like if my mom weren't around," Sebastian continues, raising his voice a bit as a pair of shooters a few lanes down increase their firing frequency. "But your dad's not going to be taken down by something like this. Give him a little more credit than that."

Guilt squeezes his chest at those words - and the knowledge that Burt's son-who's-not-a-son believes in him more than Kurt does? How can Kurt live with that? "I guess the next thing you're going to tell me is that I should have let Mercedes and the rest of them pray for my dad." It comes out sounding more self-deprecating than he'd expected - but maybe that's a good thing.

"That's the funny thing about friends," Sebastian answers, reloading his gun. "They help even when you don't ask them to. They can be the biggest pain in the ass, and the ways they go about helping you might be messed up as all hell, but they really just want to let you know that they've got your back."

"Hm," Kurt responds, catching Sebastian's eye and sharing a soft, knowing look. "Sounds familiar."

* * *

><p>"If you stare at that book any harder, you're going to burn a hole in it."<p>

Mercedes gives a start and looks at Kurt wide-eyed. "Sorry, you scared me." She pauses, putting the book back in her locker. "How's your dad doing?"

"Well, his heart was still beating this morning when I asked Carole to check in on him. I consider that a good sign," he answers, taking another small step forward. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She's got this look on her face like she knows what she's about to hear and she's too afraid to listen. "Kurt, about your dad - we shouldn't have gone behind your back, I know that. But we just wanted - "

"I know," he cuts her off, waving a hand impatiently, and then he grimaces at the rude tone he'd used. Softer, he goes on, "I know that. And I'm sorry I lost my temper. I shouldn't be pushing my friends away when they just want to help."

Mercedes gives him a reluctant smile, but when that fades away, she's still looking at him a little awed, maybe a little wistful, and Kurt wonders if he's missing something. Before he can ask, she adds, "So you really don't believe?" like the very concept of it is hard to grasp.

He has to consciously reel in his kneejerk reaction of 'of course not, only idiots believe.' Wasn't the unrestrained expression of that sentiment what got him in trouble in the first place? The last thing he wants is to jump right back into behavior that he'd only just apologized for. He gives a wry smile and gently shakes his head. "I don't."

"No, I mean - maybe not in a higher power or whatever, but in something?"

"Mercedes..." he sighs, and she reaches for him, lacing their fingers together, and the effect is oddly calming.

"I know you don't believe in God, and that's fine - to each their own. But you've gotta believe in something, Kurt. Something that you can't see, hear, or touch - cause life's too hard to go through alone. Even if it's not God - even if it's just the support of your friends or the love of your family, you've gotta believe in that, at least."

She's definitely got a point. He may not be into the whole god thing, but when taking into consideration all the other people in his life - and his connection with them - he's actually been pretty lucky. Carole's been an absolute angel about the hospitalization, and it's probably been just as hard on her as it's been on Kurt - and regret makes his chest ache when he remembers how quickly he'd dismissed her and Sebastian as part of Friday night dinner ritual.

Because that's what it is - a ritual. It's important and it's... sacred. He just wishes he could have realized it sooner.

But there's nothing he can do about that now. All he can do is sit by his dad's side and just _be there _- at least, he'd do that if he didn't have two more classes to sit through. Burt wouldn't want him skipping classes for his sake - so he'll plow through, but he'll need a little extra strength today. He gives Mercedes a watery smile and links arms with her, and she gets it.

"Lunch?" she asks gently. "I say we eat in my car today."

"Please."

* * *

><p>"You never could dress yourself," he laughs quietly, buttoning up the sleeves on his dad's hospital gown. "Mom always used to tease you for it. I guess that's one more thing I share with her."<p>

His dad says nothing - he's still comatose, but even in the silence Kurt's knees feel suddenly weak. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring up the subject of his mom while seeing his dad like this - he's dangerously close to thinking what it would be like if he lost both parents, and that - well, he's already explored that thought before, and it's never any less depressing.

Instead of entertaining that further, he pulls up a chair to Burt's bed and grasps his dad's hand firmly. "So I got a stern talking-to from Sebastian. Mercedes, too. And I ended up doing a bit of thinking. About you, and me, and Mom - and Carole and Sebastian and how we all fit together in this thing, this strange and messy relationship we call family. I thought about friends too."

He shifts forward in his chair, frowning. "I'm sorry, Dad. I should have let those guys pray for you. This wasn't about me, it was about you, and... It was nice. I wish I hadn't disregarded Friday night dinner either - who knows, maybe you'd still be awake if I'd agreed to stay home." He pauses, swallowing thickly. "Do you remember our first Friday night dinner after Mom died?"

He pictures it clearly. Burt had insisted on carrying out those dinners to continue with some semblance of normalcy. They'd gone all out, too. Turkey, potatoes, stuffing - it was almost like Thanksgiving, as if they wanted to make up for Liz not being there. By the time seven o'clock hit, their mouths were watering, and when Burt pulled the bird out of the oven and cut into the crispy golden skin - the inside was still completely raw.

He doesn't remember who it was that started laughing first - might have been him. Maybe it didn't matter - they laughed so hard their stomachs hurt and their eyes teared up at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation - and they considered how Liz would have been horrified at the turkey.

And just like that, they'd stopped laughing, succumbing to the deeply-buried feelings of guilt at the bottom of their bellies.

It was too soon, right? They'd just put her in the ground last week. There was no reason to be smiling quite yet.

Then the scene changes. It's the same house, same dinner table, only the walls are a little more yellowed and the table a little more worn-down. This memory is even easier to conjure.

Burt had been sitting at the table, avidly discussing the game-changing homer in the bottom of the ninth the previous night while Sebastian was setting out plates and utensils.

Kurt set the quiche down in the center of the table, and Sebastian halted conversation for a bit - even after their whole 'dad and sports and jealousy' conversation, he looked a little uneasy to be talking sports with Burt while Kurt was right there -

But Kurt just smiled and shrugged as if to say 'if I can't share his excitement, someone else has to.' Carole brought out the Arnold Palmers and started slicing up the quiche and asked Kurt to plate the salad.

It wasn't what Kurt was used to. It wasn't the warm, familiar smell of his mother's cooking. But it was still familiar in its own way, and it was comforting all the same. It felt like belonging, like they each had a place at that table - together.

When Kurt comes back to himself, he sees that his dad's fingertips have turned pink, so he loosens his grip and sucks in a deep breath. Friday night dinner had come surprisingly easy to the four of them - even to Kurt, who was used to those dinners featuring just him and Burt and Liz. The shift in the dynamic to Carole-and-Sebastian dinners wasn't unwelcome - it would have done no good if those dinners worked too hard to imitate (or worse, _replace_) the ones Kurt and Burt had with Liz. But the changes had been subtle, almost unnoticeable, and they'd continued that way until the morning of the argument - the morning when Kurt had consciously noticed those changes and subsequently rejected them. In a way, his awareness had been the only _real _problem.

And in an ideal world, his newfound acceptance of those changes - his acceptance of them as ritual - would wake Burt from his coma. Kurt is far from an idealist - but he needs to say this anyway.

"I don't believe in God, Dad. But I believe in you, and I believe in us. I believe in family, just like you do."

The tears start to burn the back of his eyes as the doubt sinks in again. He's still unresponsive. What if he never wakes up? "I can't hold on to Mom forever - I can't wish for her to come back. I realize that now. Carole and Sebastian are - they're not the same, but that's okay. They can't replace Mom, but they can create new memories with us. Just because this new family isn't the one we're used to doesn't make it any less sacred - that's what you were trying to say, right?"

He pauses again, voice cracking. "I get it now. Whatever's sacred to you is sacred to me too, Dad. And I'm so, so sorry that I never had the chance to tell you that."

Again, no response. Seeing his dad lying motionless on this bed, maybe unconsciously hearing this but being unable to listen - that breaks Kurt's heart all over again. There's so much more he wants to say - no, _needs _to say, but his voice is about to give out completely and there's only so much strength he can feign. Instead he grips Burt's hand tighter and looks down at his lap, allowing the tears to roll down his cheeks.

He hasn't completely given up hope yet - but sometimes he thinks it might be easier if he did, and the guilt from those thoughts is enough to make him sick to his stomach.

Then he feels it. At first he thinks he might be imagining things - but he stares down at their joined hands, and yes - his father's fingers definitely curl around his own. They squeeze his hand - week, but it's more of a response than anything else he's gotten in the past ten days.

"Nancy!" he calls out frantically to the nurse's station, eagerly jumping to his feet, moving still closer but never breaking his grip. "I'm right here, Dad. I'm not going anywhere."

Burt's head rolls slowly to the side, as if following the sound of Kurt's voice, and when his eyelids begin to flutter open, it takes every ounce of Kurt's willpower not to cheer or shout. Instead he waits, all of his nerves thrummed with anticipation and relief and the unmistakable feeling of _home_.

* * *

><p>Burt finally comes home after several days of testing and observations. The doctors have prescribed a couple of heart medications along with a strict diet regimen. He can't enjoy his favored breakfast of two Slimjims and a Coke anymore (good riddance, thinks Kurt), and yes, he's had a few grumblings about that, but he's alive and mostly well and that's what really matters.<p>

Kurt has taken full reign over Burt's diet, fixing all of his meals. When he's unable to do that, he makes sure to give Carole the diet guidelines card he'd received from the hospital - they can't take any chances by being careless with something as simple as food.

Which is why Friday night finds Kurt in the kitchen rubbing spices into salmon fillets.

Burt stops on his way to the fridge, confused. "What day is it?"

"Friday," Kurt replies, pausing briefly to swipe at his nose with the back of his wrist. "I didn't want to wake Carole by asking for help with dinner - she's working tonight, right? And I got a text from Sebastian. He just got out of practice; he should be coming home soon."

"Gotcha," is all Burt says at first, and then he continues on to the fridge, staring at the contents and trying to decide on beverage choice.

"Water, Dad," Kurt reminds him sternly. "At least for now. You've been home for barely a week."

He can practically _hear _his dad rolling his eyes, but thankfully when he turns around, Burt's got a bottle of water in his hand.

"Dinner looks great," Burt offers, and though he looks a little put-off by having to give up soda and beer for a while, his eyes are warm. "I'm proud of you, Kurt."

The words are heavy but welcome, and Kurt smiles so wide his cheeks hurt before turning back to the fillets.

Dinner goes off without a hitch that night, and for a while, it seems like everything is looking up - or at the very least, back to normal.

* * *

><p>Well, relatively normal.<p>

As for glee club - he's never quite sure what to expect with that group. They welcome a new member - an artificially blonde boy named Sam who pings hard on Kurt's gaydar but is (shockingly) straight and apparently has something going on with Quinn.

The latest festivities include Mr. Schue's misguided attempts at trying to woo Ms. Pillsbury by putting on a production of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. The last thing he wants to do is get involved with Mr. Schue's love life (because god, that sounds disgusting no matter how he words it) but the costumes are fun, and it reminds him a little bit of the theatricality lesson from last year, so he won't judge his choir director _too _harshly for this one.

He gets caught up with the rest of the club in choir room performances, homework, ensuring that his dad is eating right and continuing with the wedding plans (two weeks behind schedule is two weeks too many) and life goes on just like before -

- and that includes a slushie to the face on Monday morning.

Kurt stands there shock-still before slowly wiping purple ice from his eyes and mouth. He wonders if he'd given Karofsky too much credit when he thought that he would actually lay off the bullying for a while because of Burt's heart attack. He's no doubt heard about it - gossip spreads like the plague at McKinley.

Definitely too much credit, he decides with a sort of bitter acceptance. And definitely back to normal.

* * *

><p>"I take it we have a lot of sweater trains to look forward to this season?" Tina asks cheerfully, and Kurt smiles in response.<p>

"Of course. I've got to jazz it up somehow, and - "

Without warning, a pair of thick, heavy hands shoves him forward. He crashes into the lockers. Karofsky shoots him a dirty look as he saunters away - and Kurt winces, rubbing his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Tina says - more out of politeness than anything else - anyone who endures weekly locker shoves from that Neanderthal never really has a positive response to that question. Her concern is nice anyway.

"I'm fine," he answers, frowning in the direction Karofsky went, determinedly ignoring the slow, steady throbbing from his right shoulder. "Let's just go. We're going to be late."

He must still be wearing a scowl on his face, because Mercedes starts to give him that familiar pitying look as soon as he steps into the choir room. When he sits down next to her, she pats his thigh in a reassuring gesture. Again it doesn't do much but it's - well, it's something.

"All right guys, are you ready for this?" Mr. Schue grins, holding up a seemingly innocent sheet of paper. "Drumroll, Finn?"

Finn Hudson plays an impromptu drum solo on top of his textbook.

"I have in my hand our competition for this year's Sectionals! We've got a couple of new challenges this time around."

Kurt raises an eyebrow, intrigued. Did Ohio's show choir world manage to conjure up something even more outlandish than delinquent girls or a deaf choir this year?

"First up is the all male a cappella choir from Westerville - "

Kurt's stomach flips. A navy blazer and striped tie flash into his mind - It can't be.

" - the Dalton Academy Warblers!"

Mercedes turns to him sharply and grabs his elbow. "Hey, isn't that..."

He doesn't reply right away. It takes several moments of shocked silence and Mercedes' fingernails digging into his arm before he finally nods, suddenly all too grateful to be sitting. "Sebastian's school."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes:** Written for a Kurtbastian Hummelsmythe brothers AU prompt on GKM, found here: glee-kink-meme .livejournal 26585. html? thread = 28669913 # t28669913 (remove spaces).

**Rating:** Eventual NC-17

**Summary**: He'd only introduced Carole to his father so that he could get closer to Sebastian - it was just a simple crush at first. He didn't expect to become his stepbrother. And he certainly didn't expect to actually fall in love. Kurt/Sebastian and Kurt/Blaine. AU.

* * *

><p>"So we learned a juicy little tidbit today about Sectionals."<p>

Kurt glances up at Sebastian's reflection in his vanity mirror, pausing only for a moment before continuing to swipe the toner pad across his chin. "Interesting. So did we."

"Yeah, apparently the Warblers are up against some old folks who managed to somehow form a show choir in between bingo and cleaning their dentures. Oh, and some group called the Nude Erections. Great name, right?" Sebastian says conversationally, sinking down on the edge of Kurt's bed. The smirk on his face is entirely too smug, like he's positively delighted at this turn of events.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Very mature, Sebastian. How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sebastian raises an eyebrow.

"I don't pretend to understand Mr. Schue's reasoning. After all, he was the one who thought that doing disco at McKinley's pep assembly would attract new members to the club."

Sebastian grins and falls back, stretching out across Kurt's bed. "I'm guessing that didn't work out."

Kurt stops mid-moisturizer pat and thinks back a year - thinks of Salt-n-Pepa, thinks of an appalled Sue Sylvester and an initially silent gym, thinks of an innocent ass slap that had Finn Hudson avoiding eye contact with him for a good two months. "...Strangely enough, everyone seemed to love it. Not enough to join, though."

"Jesus, you'd think your club had the plague or something," Sebastian comments, picking at threads on Kurt's throw blanket, and Kurt shoots him a dirty look through the mirror because _hello_, genuine mohair.

"Unfortunately the sing-and-dance combination embraced by the American entertainment industry deems one a social pariah at McKinley," Kurt pauses again and sends Sebastian a look of cautious disbelief. "They really don't feel that way at Dalton?"

"Nope, they pretty much worship the ground we walk on."

"Well then, I can't imagine how much your ego's grown since joining them," Kurt responds with a chuckle.

"Enough to beat you guys at Sectionals for sure," Sebastian says, and Kurt scoffs at this.

"Please, you're going to be eating your words come December."

"We'll see about that," Sebastian sits up, smirking, and he reaches across the space between them to give Kurt a hearty clap on the shoulder.

It's just Kurt's luck that it happens to be the same shoulder that had gone crashing into the lockers today after Karofsky shoved him. Kurt hisses sharply and jerks away from Sebastian's touch, knocking into the edge of the vanity table top. When his forearm begins to throb too, he curses inwardly and rubs gently at the spot, hoping desperately that he won't wake up to yet another bruise tomorrow.

When he glances back up to the mirror, Sebastian's eyes are heavy with confusion and what looks like angered suspicion.

"I'm fine," he says, but it's obvious Sebastian doesn't believe him.

"Let me see." Sebastian begins to lift up the right sleeve of Kurt's t-shirt, but Kurt again edges away.

"Shouldn't you be doing homework or something? Wait. I asked you to help me with trig, didn't I? What happened to that?"

"Stop deflecting and pull up your sleeve."

Kurt matches Sebastian's stare for a few long moments before sighing deeply and gingerly rolling up his shirt sleeve. He probably should have seen this coming - if Sebastian had gotten all worked up over that slushie on the first day, there's no way he's going to let a bruise slide.

"It's not that bad," Kurt insists, trying to keep his tone casual. Maybe, hopefully - this struggle is just a matter of willpower. If he sticks to the mindset that Karofsky's habits aren't getting to him, maybe he'll start to believe it. It's a little convoluted and illogical, but what else can he do? He's only got so many defenses.

"Not that bad," Sebastian echoes incredulously. "You have a bruise the size of Africa and you say it's not that bad?"

Kurt pivots to face away from the mirror, examining his shoulder's reflection. "What? Don't make stuff up, I - " A large, splotchy kidney-shaped mark purples the skin between the joint and the ridge of his shoulder blade. Okay, so it's not Africa, but it's still generously-sized. He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying and failing to shut from his mind today's memory, the winded feeling of slamming back into the lockers. "It looks worse than it is."

Sebastian reaches out to trace the edges of the bruise, stilling his movements when Kurt starts to wince. "Tell me you at least told one of the teachers about this."

"The only people who care even less than the students are the faculty," Kurt sighs, eyeing Sebastian's fingertips, still resting gently on his shoulder right next to the darkened skin.

"And it hasn't occurred to you to just - I don't know, tell them off? You haven't just said, 'I'm not gonna take your crap anymore'?"

"Somehow I don't think that would accomplish anything. They're about twice my size with only half of my intelligence."

Sebastian gives a nonchalant hum. For a moment he looks as if he's going to speak - until he abruptly gets up and leaves the room.

Kurt stares after him in disbelief. What the hell? That's it?

He's not expecting a pity party or anything, but a little warning about ending the conversation would have been nice.

Then again, this is Sebastian - he always surprises. After a few moments, he comes back in the room, wrapping a paper towel around a bag of - is that?

"Frozen peas?" Kurt asks with the barest hint of a smile. "Seems so cliché."

"Don't knock it till you try it. I can't tell you how many of my lacrosse injuries could have gotten worse without a little swelling control from your so-called cliché."

He startles a bit when Sebastian gently presses the peas against his shoulder. It's freezing, jarring against his flesh like those horrid slushies - but then numbness starts to steadily crawl outward from the bruise site, and the tension slowly eases away from his body as he takes comfort in both the cold press and Sebastian's presence, close and familiar.

"I don't know what things are like at your messed-up school," Sebastian starts, and Kurt has to snort at that. Always so tactless. "And I know you act like it's all okay, but there's only so much you can take."

The implication of being called helpless or weak would normally make his hackles rise - but luckily he knows exactly what Sebastian isn't saying.

He offers a half-smile and reaches up to squeeze Sebastian's hand, the frozen peas numbing his fingertips. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>But as he finds out the next morning, Sebastian's comfort doesn't amount to much.<p>

As soon as he rounds the corner for first period, a pair of thick hands shove him backwards. He stumbles to the floor, his rear end crashing into the tiles with a sharp pain that ripples up all the way from his tailbone to his neck. Eyes screwed shut, biting down on his tongue hard enough to draw tangy, coppery blood spilling over his teeth.

His cheeks burn red with humiliation as his classmates and even some passing sophomores stand there watching, some laughing openly, others grinning a bit more discreetly.

And even with Sebastian's quiet affirmation that he's not alone, that he's got the moral support of the rest of the guys from group - and even with Tina helping him to his feet at this very minute - it's not enough.

Not anymore.

* * *

><p>His first thought as soon as he sets foot in the door is that there are <em>so many boys<em>. Of course that's a given, but it's nice to look at boys who are actually smiling at him out of friendliness rather than the smugness that accompanies a biting cold slushie. He's been here less than ten minutes, and rather than getting slammed into cold metal, he's instead been given several variations of 'morning, how's it going?'

His second thought is that everything looks expensive and old - in a good kind of way. Where McKinley High is all glass and steel and light and suspiciously shiny floors, Dalton Academy is defined by mahogany and crystal chandeliers and vaulted ceilings and marble statues. It exudes the type of vintage class and luxury that makes Kurt feel both incredibly envious and painfully under-cultured.

Sebastian was right - it really is like a different world.

But then the strangest thing happens - a few of the boys start to look at their cellphones, or at the clocks nailed to the walls, and then they continue on in a rush, chattering excitedly. It's like they're all trying to get to the same place, and the longer Kurt watches this behavior, the more confused he gets.

"Excuse me," he stops a dark-haired boy on the stairs, and when the boy turns away from his pocket watch to look up, Kurt's heart catches in his throat.

Those wide hazel eyes are possibly the most gorgeous eyes he's ever seen.

"Um," Kurt stutters. He's a little shocked that he can even speak right now. "Hi. Can you tell me what's going on here? I'm new."

The boy grins, stowing his watch in his pocket. "Well you're in luck. The Warblers are on in about three minutes. Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons - it tends to shut the school down for a while."

Kurt blinks and looks around him at the mass migration of boys heading downstairs. "Really? All of this for the Warblers?"

"Oh yeah," the boy's smile widens even more, if possible. "The Warblers are like rockstars."

It's a hell of a sales pitch. But that's not what does him in - no. It's being physically here in their territory - seeing the smiles, the rush, the excited buzz in the air - that fills him with a sense of strange wonder and disbelief. Sebastian's always said that the Warblers are like school royalty (or rockstars, according to this boy), but the truth of that statement never really sunk in until now.

It's such a far cry from the daily opposition that New Directions gets from all tiers of McKinley's social hierarchy, and Kurt can't help but feel a little jealous. It must show on his face too because a look of sympathy crosses the boy's eyes, and he takes Kurt's hand and tugs him down the stairs. "Follow me. I know a shortcut."

He leads them down an empty hallway, checking on Kurt behind him and smiling, those bright hazel eyes dancing with curiosity and mischief, like he knows something that Kurt doesn't - but Kurt finds that he doesn't mind. That expression looks good on him, and it's contagious - Kurt can feel himself smiling too.

And this boy's actually holding his hand, _touching _Kurt willingly and for an extended period of time, not running away screaming out fears of 'catching the gay.'

No guy has ever treated him like such an equal, like it's okay to be exactly who he is. No one since Sebastian.

Don't start, Kurt's conscience reminds him sharply. Don't even think about it.

It's only when they arrive at the senior commons that the boy finally lets go of Kurt's hand, and the weight of the differences between their schools really starts to hit him. The Warblers haven't even started yet, but there's an almost tangible sense of anticipation and school pride - it's a lot like the feeling in the air during homecoming football games, and the realization makes Kurt's stomach twist.

"I should probably get my hands on one of those blazers," he manages with a weak laugh.

The boy offers an understanding smile. "Might be a good idea."

A familiar face across the room catches his eye - Sebastian. He's staring right at Kurt, mouthing _what are you doing here? _and - Kurt stops in his tracks. He can't admit to spying, obviously. But he can't say that he just came here to check out the school either, because a research trip like that could have easily been done after classes were done for the day.

But before he can think of any alternative answers, he hears several of the boys near the windows humming the opening notes to 'Teenage Dream,' and the boy who led Kurt to this room soon steps away, joining in as lead vocalist and capturing his full attention.

And well. If Kurt wasn't too far gone before, he certainly is now. The rational part of his mind is screaming at him to not start crushing on the first cute guy who happens to be relatively nice to him (because look how well that turned out last time), but he almost can't be bothered with listening to that, because honestly - it's impossible.

How could he see that boy - gorgeous and warm and friendly and sweetly singing the words directly to Kurt - and not instantly fall head over heels? If that isn't enough, as frontman he's like a physical embodiment of what the Warblers are - talented and beloved and accepting. How could Kurt not be attracted to that?

It's an instant connection. For that boy this might be just another performance, but for Kurt it's like each line leaves an imprint on his heart. Even if he forgets the boy's face and never sees him again (he hopes not), he'll at least remember what it felt like to stand here being sung to, appreciated, almost loved.

As the song peters off, Kurt turns to leave - he's not sure if he wants to deal with Sebastian just yet. Maybe tonight. He shuts his eyes, taking in the last few notes of the song and committing this experience to memory. Then there's a round of boisterous applause, cheers and whistles, and just like that, it's over.

Until he hears footsteps jogging behind him.

"Wait up, new kid!"

He turns around and there's that same boy, all charisma and smiles and charm.

"What'd you think - " The boy's brow furrows. "Uh, I never did catch your name."

Before he can answer, someone else speaks. "It's Kurt."

They both turn to see Sebastian walking up to them, his hands stowed in his pockets. "Hey little brother. I didn't expect to see you here."

Sebastian's lips are quirked up in an odd sort of smile, and he doesn't bother hiding the suspicion in his eyes. Suddenly the guilt begins pooling into Kurt's stomach.

"I didn't know you had a brother," the boy looks pointedly at Sebastian.

"Almost brothers. I guess I failed to mention it," Sebastian shrugs. "Just like he probably failed to mention that he's from McKinley High."

Kurt winces. He's not exactly sure what he expected - Sebastian questioning him wasn't just a high possibility, it was an inevitability. Oh God, they're not going to beat him up for spying, are they? Sebastian wouldn't go for that, right?

But to his surprise, the boy just laughs. "I thought so. You make kind of a lousy spy."

He looks down self-consciously at his outfit. The white shirt and striped tie he'd stolen from Sebastian's room this morning made for a halfway decent disguise, but that was the most he'd been willing to take. He isn't quite at that level of comfort with Sebastian where they can share pants. "I suppose I could have at least opted for gray jeans instead of black."

The boy smiles again and shakes his head. He sticks his hand out for Kurt to shake. "Either way, it's nice to formally meet you, Kurt. My name's Blaine."

It doesn't register right away. His first thought is that it's a rather old-fashioned (but charming) name. Then he wonders if Blaine's parents were John Hughes fans. He frowns a little, retracting his hand from the handshake with a sense of deja vu. He's had this thought process before, he's sure of it.

And that's when it hits him.

"Wait. Blaine Anderson?"

Blaine cocks his head to the side with a confused smile. "That's me. Have we met before?"

The gravity of the situation makes Kurt's throat go arid. This is the same Blaine who Sebastian had been chasing several months ago - maybe he's still chasing him to this day. Kurt doesn't know and he's sure as hell not going to ask about it now. He had spent week after week resenting and envying the one receiving Sebastian's affections - resenting Blaine, the sweet, friendly unassuming boy in front of him. Guilt rises up in his gut in sharp, heavy waves. Blaine had done nothing to merit that resentment. He was only - everything that Kurt wasn't.

Maybe that's why Kurt had just spent the last ten minutes ogling him - Katy Perry is far from a lyrical genius, but those words about feeling complete and getting his heart racing? Scarily accurate.

Trying to ignore the irony of the situation, he finally regains enough strength in his voice to answer. "No, I've just heard about you from Sebastian. That's all."

"Oh really?" Blaine glances at Sebastian a little flustered. "Positive things?"

"You have no idea," Kurt laughs quietly, but he quickly sobers at the look on Sebastian's face. He can't exactly place what expression he's wearing. He's - smiling? No, not really. His face remains light, neutral, but he looks guarded, like he's waiting for Kurt to say something - something stupid, something out of line. It wouldn't be the first time. Kurt still remembers that bitter argument they'd had before Sebastian left for Paris, all because he chose not to think before speaking.

No more of that. He's promised that much to himself. With a casual shrug of the shoulders, he changes the subject. "I thought I would scope out the competition - Sebastian always extols the Warblers' praises, but I've never actually seen a performance until now."

"And? What do you think?" Blaine prompts with a smile.

"Your choreography could use a little work," Kurt admits. "But your vocals are amazing. Whether or not you guys are good enough to beat New Directions remains to be seen."

"Well, I guess we'll see come Sectionals," Blaine laughs.

"But the entire school loves you," Kurt sighs. "That's definitely an advantage you guys have over my club."

There must be some underlying bitterness to his voice, because as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Sebastian and Blaine are exchanging meaningful looks. When Blaine looks back at Kurt, his eyebrows are furrowed with concern. "So there actually was an ulterior motive for coming here."

God, was he really that transparent? "I never said that."

"You didn't have to," Blaine responds, grasping Kurt's shoulder firmly but gently. "I know a defeated face when I see one. Trust me, I've been there."

Kurt figures that 'I know, Sebastian told me' isn't the appropriate thing to say, so he keeps his mouth shut and nods, following Blaine to sit at a round coffee table in one of the adjacent rooms.

"Sebastian, do you think you can get Kurt a latte?" Blaine asks when they've sat down.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. "He doesn't even - "

"Please," Blaine says, shooting Sebastian a look. Kurt watches the exchange - something crosses over Sebastian's face too quickly for Kurt to identify. Much to his surprise, Sebastian actually gets up. He looks at Kurt one last time before backing away - his eyes still have that intense, questioning look to them, promising to ask about the spying issue later on. Kurt resists the urge to sag down in his chair from relief. He really had not been looking forward to that conversation.

Blaine ensures that no one is in earshot before he sets his eyes back on Kurt. "So I take it you're having trouble at school."

Ah, and there's the catch - going from one awkward conversation to another. But something about Blaine draws Kurt in - he trusts him, for some reason. Maybe it's dangerous. He doesn't know him at all, yet he begins to talk. "McKinley High isn't very receptive to the arts - or me, for that matter." He takes a deep breath, scraping his fingers across the table top, focusing his attention there instead of Blaine's face. Opening up about the bullying at McKinley has never been easy, but somehow right now it's easier. Maybe, with an idea of Blaine's history, he can be a bit more honest. "I'm the only person out of the closet at my school. I try to stay strong about it, but - "

Memories of the past two years creep up over him, bringing all of the humiliation, shame, and helplessness to hang over him like storm clouds. His throat catches as the image of Karofsky's sneer lingers at the forefront of his mind. Suddenly it's hard to breathe.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice brings him back to reality, back to the present.

"There's this - this Neanderthal who's made it his mission to make my life a living hell. And nobody seems to notice." His voice breaks on the last word. So much for staying strong.

But when he looks up, there is no judgment in Blaine's eyes. No sense of mocking, just something that looks like - "I know how you feel."

Kurt nods slowly and frowns, prompting Blaine to continue.

"I was bullied really badly at my old school," Blaine goes on. "I even complained about it to the faculty. They were sympathetic and all, but you could just tell that nobody really cared. It was like, hey, if you're gay, your life's just gonna be miserable. Sorry. Nothing we can do about it. So I dealt with it for a while, but eventually it became too much for me to handle. I finally hit my breaking point."

Oh, that feeling is far too familiar. Kurt shuts his eyes for a half-second. "Then what happened?"

"I left that school. Never looked back. And I came here," Blaine finishes, glancing up at the ceiling.

Kurt would be lying if he said he hadn't been examining this school as a prospective student the moment he'd arrived. Who wouldn't, especially in his situation? Dalton is like paradise compared to McKinley. It's like every utopia he's ever seen on TV or read about in fantasy novels, except it's right here and it's real. But it's also just out of his reach. "I don't really have the option of transferring right now."

"I know. But you do have another option - you can refuse to be the victim. Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt. And you have a chance right now to teach this guy."

He makes it sound so easy. "How?"

Blaine frowns, hesitating. It starts piecing together for Kurt in that silence - the bullies, the hospitalization that Sebastian had mentioned. Had he actually been beaten up? "You can talk to him. Confront him. But be careful, and be smart about it. If you can sense that things are getting dangerous, back away. You have to try at first, because you never know. But if he's not willing to at least listen, then you have to back out."

* * *

><p>"How'd your chat with our frontman go?"<p>

Kurt looks up to see Sebastian settling down on his bed, sitting cross-legged to face him. "I'm sorry for spying."

Sebastian shrugs. "I'll admit I was annoyed, but what can I say? A little dirty competition keeps things interesting. More importantly - you and Blaine looked like you were having a pretty intense conversation. Wanna tell me about it?"

He hesitates. "He was beat up by bullies?"

Sebastian's face quickly sets into a solemn expression. "He told you that?"

Kurt shakes his head. "Hinted, more like."

His future stepbrother nods. "Yeah, he's never actually said it, but you know how it is. My classmates have ways of figuring things out."

"I can't believe that bullies would ever go that far," Kurt says, shaking his head. "I mean, I have my problems, and god knows that Rigo and Seth and Jake have theirs, but it's never gotten to the point where one of us had to get sent to the hospital."

"People do fucked up things when they're narrow-minded. And the people who don't deserve it end up getting hurt," Sebastian says, gently pulling at the threads on Kurt's throw blanket.

He doesn't even have the heart to tell him to stop. He may not have had the horrific experience that Blaine did, but the misery and the anxiety that he had no doubt suffered through during his time at that school? That hits far too close to home for Kurt.

"You guys just swapped battle stories then?"

He shoots Sebastian a dirty look. Did he really have to word it that way? "Yes. And he gave me some advice."

"Such as?"

"Well - he told me to stand up for myself."

"So he basically repeated what I've been telling you since forever," Sebastian says dryly. "Awesome. You've got your second opinion. Are you actually gonna do it now?"

God, he wants to. He wants to stop that locker shove before it even happens, he wants to tell Karofsky to go to hell and that there's nothing wrong with being exactly who he is, but somehow - he can't. "I don't know."

"What, do you need help or something - "

"No," Kurt cuts him off. "If I do it, I have to do it by myself."

"Always the lone sufferer, aren't you," Sebastian deadpans, absently drawing circles on Kurt's bedspread.

"I just don't see the sense in involving anyone else," Kurt answers, his tone defensive. "It's my problem alone."

Abruptly Sebastian stands and stares at Kurt for several long moments. His eyes are heavy and frustrated. "Look, I get that. But it doesn't mean that I have to like it."

That's all he says before leaving Kurt in shocked silence.

* * *

><p>In the end, it's Sebastian's constant urgings and Blaine's advice that gets him to make up his mind about speaking out. And he tries, he tries to be brave, but every single time Karofsky shoves into him, his debilitating fear leaves him tongue-tied and any kind of righteous speech he has planned ends up in the dirt.<p>

There are only two more years of this, he reminds himself. Sad as though it is, it actually does reassure him in a way. For a while.

Until the time comes when a week passes without any harassment. It's like the quiet just before a major storm, and even though Kurt tries to distract himself with wedding planning and continuing to adjust to the new house (and his soon to be new family members), the sense of impending dread and trepidation that lurks at the back of his mind cannot be ignored.

And that's when it happens.

He's on his way from sixth period to Glee. He pauses at the top of the staircase to take his vibrating phone from his pocket.

It's a text from Blaine. _Courage._

A slow, hesitant smile stretches across his face.

Then someone shoves him from behind. What comes next is an out-of-body experience. His world both speeds up and slows down. He falls, blows hitting his body at various angles. He almost feels like he's drowning. Which way is up or down? He throws a protective arm over his head. Maybe it's too late. Maybe his head is already split open.

He lands on his back, winded. His brain's still rattling around, pounding, pulsing like it's about to burst from his skull. _Fuck_.

"Nice ballerina tumble, Lady!" Karofsky jeers, and heavy footsteps echoing away indicate his departure.

_No_, a voice screams inside Kurt's head. _No matter how scared you are, you can't let him get away with this. You can't let him win._

"Hey," he calls out, wincing at how weak his voice sounds. He struggles to sit up, ignoring his body's aching protests. He opens his eyes - everything is blurry, and that's probably a warning sign to go to the hospital but that can wait. He has to do this now, before he loses his nerve.

"Hey!" He repeats, his voice stronger now. He staggers to his feet, stumbling after Karofsky. "I'm talking to you!"

"Don't waste your breath, Lady McCripple. I gotta get to football practice like a _real _man," Karofsky laughs, and Kurt stands up to full height, ignoring the pounding in his head. His eyes focus on two Karofskys - oh. That can't be good.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Karofsky's eyes narrow - at least Kurt thinks they do. "Excuse me?"

"Why me? If I'm such a sissy, such a girl - what are you so scared of?"

"Besides you following me to the locker room to peek at my junk?" Karofsky scoffs, and he continues walking.

In a strange, sudden burst of energy, Kurt darts ahead of him, stopping him in his tracks. "Yeah, every straight guy's nightmare, that all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you. Well guess what, Hamhock - you are not my type."

Karofsky steps closer, his lip curled in a sneer. "That right?"

"Yeah. I don't like chubby boys who sweat too much and are gonna be bald by the time they're thirty."

Karofsky's fist smashes into the lockers next to them, the harsh clang of metal echoing down the empty hallway. "Do not push me, Hummel."

He stares at Karofsky's fist, remembering Blaine's advice - _if things get dangerous, walk away_, but he can't seem to stop anymore. The words tumble out. "You gonna hit me? Do it."

"Don't push me," Karofsky growls.

"Hit me. It's not gonna change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you!" He yells, the pulsing in his head growing stronger and stronger, pushing against the back of his eyes.

"Get out of my face!" Karofsky snaps. His cruel, cocky expression cracks.

_Back off, get away, go_ - the voice warns, but he stays exactly where he is, dangerously lightheaded. Almost delirious. "You are _nothing _but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

Karofsky moves in close. Kurt's not sure what he was expecting - maybe getting decked in the face.

But that doesn't happen. Instead Karofsky's _kissing _him, lips dry and hot and rough - and it's absolutely disgusting.

At first he freezes up in shock. But once he recovers, he shoves Karofsky away, desperate to get as much space between their bodies as possible.

This can't be happening. This must be a nightmare.

Karofsky reaches for him a second time, his eyes wild and filled with longing, but Kurt again pushes him back, and his form is too solid to be anything other than real.

"Don't," he warns Karofsky, backing up to the lockers. "Don't touch me."

Karofsky swears under his breath, his shoulders taut with tension. He turns to leave, only to face Kurt again. "If you tell anyone about this," he says darkly, "I am gonna kill you."

The threat sends a chill of pure terror all the way through Kurt's bones, and as he watches Karofsky stalk away, his vision starts to fade in and out. Suddenly his breath is far too noisy. His heart feels like it's about to burst through his chest. The world starts to spin, first slowly, then fast and out of control -

And then he's falling.

His memory blacks out during the fall itself, but he vaguely remembers opening his eyes to the bright ceiling lights and someone with a soft, feminine voice asking him if he's okay.

After another minute - or maybe it's been a half hour, Kurt's not sure - he also remembers two men in blue uniforms. Paramedics, probably. One shines an annoyingly bright light into Kurt's eyes, and the other starts asking him really ridiculous questions.

_Can you tell me who is the president of the United States? _Barack Obama.

_Do you know where you are? _McKinley High.

_What is today's date? _November? November 9. 2010.

They ask him some more questions after that - did he eat recently, what was he doing before he fell, is he taking any medications, does he have any drug allergies - countless others, probably just to keep him talking and conscious, but it's getting increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. His head is foggy, he kind of feels like throwing up but mostly he just wants to sleep.

His last thoughts are of green eyes, then green eyes turning to hazel, and then he's out cold.

* * *

><p>When he comes to, everything is still a little fuzzy, his mind achey and loose. His limbs feel like lead, limp and heavy next to his body. Slowly his eyes roam his surroundings - a hospital bay, from the looks of it.<p>

"You're alive," a voice says, approaching his right side. Sebastian. "Thank god." His tone is light, but it sounds like there's some underlying worry there too. Maybe. Nonverbal cues are a little difficult to read at the moment.

Kurt's voice is hoarse and scratchy as he answers, "Nice to see you too."

"Burt went to get something to eat," Sebastian says, pulling up a chair next to the bedside. "Doctor said you've got a concussion and some pretty serious bruising. Said you were lucky there wasn't more damage. What happened?"

Good question. Kurt's not sure himself.

Oh, he remembers falling. Stair edges digging into his arms, knees, back, hips - everywhere. "I fell down the stairs, I think."

"Your guidance counselor found you halfway down the hallway from the stairs. Did you try to walk after you fell, or - what?"

"Maybe? I - I don't know," Kurt answers slowly, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, the memories start filtering in. He was walking to glee club, and then - then he was pushed. Karofsky was there.

Kurt feels a wave of nausea rise up in his stomach, and he turns away from Sebastian.

Following Karofsky. Screaming his lungs out. Provoking him. The kiss. It all comes back to him in flashes, and with each scene comes a sharp pounding in his head and the telltale sting of tears behind his eyes.

He's tried - god knows he's tried to be strong. He's put up with the taunting and the mockery and the locker shoves and countless other brands of torment in that hellhole of a school. He's told himself over and over, lied to himself that it would get better, that one day he would rise above and those assholes would be sorry for everything they did.

"Kurt?"

He doesn't even realize he's crying until Sebastian calls his name. He's been so lost in his own head - but now he's acutely aware of how hot those tears are on his face, how loud the nurse's station is outside, how _real_this entire situation is, how painful it is to be so utterly helpless and defeated.

"I can't - Karofsky," is all he manages.

"Wait," Sebastian says in a low voice. "That asshole did this?"

Sebastian's chair scrapes against the floor, like he's just stood up, and a sudden wash of fear rolls over Kurt. He launches forward, ignoring his head's protest at the sudden movement, and grabs Sebastian's wrist. "Don't - "

"No! You can't just let this one slide, Kurt," Sebastian snaps. "Look at you - he put you in the fucking hospital!"

"Sebastian, please," he says weakly, pleading him to understand. He can't be alone right now.

Sebastian tenses, and for a moment Kurt thinks he's about to take off anyway - but then his shoulders sag, and he steps toward the bed again, his eyes softening. "Fine, I get it."

He's here - he's staying.

Kurt chokes back a sob and pulls Sebastian in closer, burying his face in his shirt. Maybe it's sad, maybe it's desperate, but - "I can't do it anymore. I can't - "

"Hey - hey, stop. None of that," Sebastian murmurs, awkwardly rubbing Kurt's back. After a moment he circles his arms around him. It almost helps. "You're okay now. You're okay. I've got you."

Pretty words, but they're riddled with lies. He's not okay.

Maybe he can finally admit that he's weak, or maybe he's simply reached his breaking point like Blaine did. It doesn't matter. Either way -

It's over.


End file.
